


As you were, as you've always been.

by ShakyPen



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gravityshipping, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Post-Canon, Redemption, kinda a love triangle at some point but it resolves, past thiefshipping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2019-10-24 18:48:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17709587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShakyPen/pseuds/ShakyPen
Summary: It's been nearly seven years since Ryou Bakura last wore the Millennium Ring, and time has done nothing to quell his ache for answers.Working and studying in egypt, he starts finding himself pulled towards an artifact found at the dig site near Kul Elna, and what he thought were nightmares soon reveal themselves to be something much more sinister.The former spirit of the ring, now freed and returned, finds his memories riddle with holes, and the only help he can seek is from the man he once possessed, and his old partner in crime.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A fic that's been brewing for a while, with a ship I dearly love. 
> 
> I know it's one of many post-canon yami bakura returning fics in the sea, but I hope you'll enjoy it all the same ❤️

Ryou Bakura tossed his head back against his seat, barely registering the shudder as the bus as it bumped over the uneven surface of the road. Tilting his head toward the window, he peered out into the growing dark and tried to guess how far they had come from the dig site. The sun was setting now, casting shadows over the sand like a blanket.

Hopefully not much longer.   

It had been a year since he'd moved to Cairo, supposedly working on his thesis, though every time he thought of it and his research he immediately got a headache. 

Of course, with his father being who he was, he would probably be allowed to sit on it for as long as it took, lack of productivity aside. It would come to him. Eventually. Until then, his work for Seto Kaiba was his distraction. 

As the bus pulled onto the highway with a bump, Ryou’s thoughts were drawn to the realities of the present. Dropping into the university despite it being late would save him an early morning. Several items had come back from the lab, and there was one in particular he wanted to see again. 

Following others off the bus at the nearest stop, he walked the yellow lit Cairo streets, legs still aching from sitting for several long hours. While he was doing what he'd dreamed of as a child, staying in Egypt and going to excavations, he couldn't say he enjoyed the travel - the monotonousness of the long bus rides and uncomfortable flights was enough to make him miss the simplicity of Japan and it’s rail system. 

He paused his musing as the large, impressive outline of the universities main building loomed into view, it's domed top looking down on him. Grumbling as he climbed the staircase up to the third floor of his apartment building, he let out a relieved exhale as he exited the cold, quiet hallways to a familiar cramped office. 

No one else was in, something he was glad for. It gave him the privacy to pour over the contents of the carefully wrapped parcel on his desk, it’s packaging an unassuming white. 

Swallowing nervously, he fingered at it’s tear off end, pulling it back with a wince-inducing ripping noise of rigid cardboard. Hands shaking, he reached in carefully, slowly pulling out the plastic and padding wrapped items contained within. 

He already knew what was in there, and marked them off mentally as he placed each one on the desk in front of him. A signet ring with a marking known for its trade among thieves. A large piece of broken pottery, its colour the distinct red of the Nile's mineral rich soil. A sword hilt. A metal plate. And, finally. 

The knife. 

It was of course the last item, and once it was in his hands Ryou felt a familiar heaviness settle over him. The same he felt whenever he stepped within a kilometre of what would have been Kul Elna's parameter. The same he'd felt the nights and days following the spirit’s loss to the pharaoh.

It had been nearly seven years, but he still knew that feeling. 

Biting his lip with anticipation, Ryou unwrapped the knife from its plastic padding, holding the rusted item carefully, eyes travelling the length of it. It had been cleaned since he had seen it at the dig site, and dated. Although Ryou already knew its age, the same age of the Millenium items. Made during the reign of pharaoh Aknamkanon. 

How he knew, he couldn't explain, like most of the more bizarre or frightening things in his life; the gut instinct of _knowing_ had seized him as soon as he saw it pulled from the ground, and since then, the nightmares. 

He never remembered them, but woke up knowing it had been something horrible, blankets thrown off and body drenched in sweat. He was an insomniac as it was, and the knowledge that he was dreaming of things he couldn't remember kept him up through sheer anticipation. The nagging feeling that he was forgetting something important. 

Ryou turned the knife in his hands, almost wishing for something to happen, anything. A longing for answers that he couldn’t resist. 

And suddenly, he was bleeding. Sand was below him, the heat of the sun flashing on his tan skin. The world spun for a moment and he dropped the knife on the desk, breathing heavily. 

_What was that?_

Holding his wrist steady, he inspected his left hand, ready to rush to the first aid kit, the vision fading. 

Only there was no blood. 

He stared at the spot he was sure he’d felt pain, across the front of his palm, testing the movement of his fingers. His skin looked the same as ever, down to the blotch of scar tissue in the centre, it’s edges jagged and faded, like the memory of how it had been made. He stared at it for a moment, turning his hand over and inspecting the larger, angrier scar there. It had taken months for his bones and muscle to heal - and since, his hand had never really felt the same. He clenched his fist. 

Ryou looked back down at the blade. 

“...I’m not foolish enough to think this is just some… some travel related delusion,” he murmured, the act of speaking to an inanimate object not new to him. He’d had sleep deprived hallucinations before, more often presenting as sounds, or things he’d see from the corner of his eyes. “That was so vivid,” he commented to himself, picking up the knife again and squinting at it in offense. 

It’s blade was leaf shaped, the handle carved with intricate patterns that had likely been a brilliant bronze when it was made. He held it up to the light, inspecting the speckled discolouration in the metal with quiet interest. When nothing additionally odd happened, he put it back down with a disappointed sigh, surprising himself with how forlorn it sounded. 

“What was I expecting, to hear a voice in my head?” He wondered aloud, berating himself for whatever he’d been hoping for. He sat down in his chair, gazing at the knife for a moment longer, chest still weighed down with the abject heaviness. “Was I foolish for not learning more of you when I had a chance?” He asked softly, shutting his eyes as he thought on it. 

Retrospect always made the past feel like a missed opportunity; Memories of moments that could have changed everything had he been who he was now and not the teen he'd been then. 

He found himself daydreaming, drifting dangerously close to sleep. Forcing himself back up, he yawned as he placed the items back in the bag, hand lingering on the knife as he re-wrapped it in it’s protective plastic. 

He collected his things and hoisted his saddle bag back over his shoulder, taking one last glance around the room, neck tingling. His desk was as tidy as ever, his cohort’s a mess of piled paper, the window that was meant to give a view of the courtyard outside obscured by a bookshelf. The world remained the same.   

Locking the door behind him, Ryou went carefully back down the staircase, making his way out into the cool Cairo streets. He often walked home from the university, but late at night was different. With so few people out, he found his senses more aware of every noise, and cursed himself for still being so skittish after so many years of travelling alone. 

As a child, he’d had what he’d then considered his lucky charm to guide him. If he got lost, it would point the way home. If he met trouble to run from, it would have mysteriously vanished when he looked back. 

That was, of course, because his lucky charm had been anything but that. 

It had been the Millenium Ring. 

_But you wore it all the same, did you not, Ryou Bakura?_

Ryou stopped dead, eyes quickly scanning his surroundings, spinning around were he stood. No one in front. No one behind. He could feel his heart rate climbing. Whoever had spoken had only been in his mind. 

It was _familiar._ But at the same time, wrong. The spirit’s _modus operandi_ had been obvious _-_ aggravating, egotistic, sarcastic in personality. This voice was -

Devoid of emotion.

“Who’s there?” He wondered aloud, his own voice sounding odd to him, distant. When no answer came, he had the sudden urge to run, and did, legs heavy and resisting his input. Finally, he made it to the main road. There were other people there, and Ryou felt his fear alleviating, though his heart still thumped in his ears. “Dammit,” he muttered, taking a deep breath. 

It was just the lack of sleep. That's what he told himself as he made it to his apartment, using his keycard to unlock the automatic door and punching in his floor number when he reached the elevator. He leant against the wall as it started to move upwards, feeling dizzy, and trying hard not to panic. 

How did he know that voice? 

The elevator dinged as it came to a stop, pulling him from his thoughts, and he took several exhausted steps forward, crying out in shock as his feet found darkness rather than floor. His body toppled forward, gravity pulling him down. Below him, a flash of fiery light glowed. But before the panic of it could really seep in, he was hit with a sudden clarity.

_I’m dreaming._

He woke, his head lolled back against his shoulder. He could feel the pain in his neck as he righted it, his eyes adjusting to the light of his office. On the desk in front of him, all the items still laid out. He’d never put them away. 

“What is _happening_?” Ryou muttered nervously, glancing around him. He gave himself a pinch for good measure. 

Deciding that he'd be testing fate if he walked home, Ryou instead called a cab. He usually avoided them due to his limited Arabic, speaking mostly English at the university, but after his dream he felt too paranoid to walk. 

The ride was as awkward as he expected, but he was thankful when the driver pulled up in front of his apartment, wishing him well with a smile despite Ryou’s complete lack of conversation. When he reached the elevator, he couldn't help but remember the dream, and had to fight his instinct to instead take the stairs. He was too tired for a six flight climb. 

Thankfully when he reached his floor, the corridor was in tact, right down to the dark blue carpet. He wandered to his door, unlocking it and feeling a wave of relief hit him at the sight of his familiar apartment. Bigger than his old home in Domino city, he walked past the kitchen and into the living area, dropping his bag next to the couch and heading straight to his bedroom. 

Showering could wait until the morning. As could any further thought on everything else. He pulled off his travel worn clothes, and found his pyjamas in the dark, tripping into bed. Within a minute of his head hitting the pillow, Ryou Bakura was asleep. 

 

* * *

 

He always remembered the dream once it started. 

The first thing he noticed was how hot it was, and how bright. He thought it was the sun, until the smoke began to assault his nose. Opening his eyes, he found himself lying on a rocky path, on either side of him rose the pale stone walls. 

Limbs resisting him, heavy and sluggish, he pulled himself to his feet, glancing around to get his bearings. He was in an alleyway, the air hazy with ash. It felt like he was looking at an artist's rendition of an ancient town, the brush strokes muddied and uncertain, like one he might see in a textbook. The walls of the buildings warped, leaning inwards as if to look at him. 

He stood there for a moment, watching as fire spread to the wooden roof of the nearest building. It was the same thing he saw every night, watching the world burn until it grew too hot for him to stand, until he woke up and forgot it, only to do it again the next day. A neverending nightmare.  

A sudden pain shot through his hand. 

Blinking in confusion, he looked down, a thin line of blood appearing on his palm as he watched, the redness beading upwards from a phantom cut. 

All at once, he could feel his legs.  

Acting on instinct, he began to head down the street path, only half attentive to the destruction around him. There was a loud crash as one of the buildings collapsed behind him, sending rocks and burning wood flying in all directions. He stumbled from the shock, but forced himself to keep going. 

He had to escape the dream. Why else would he keep seeing it? 

Following the path around a curving corner, he was faced with a dead end, a high stone wall framing the drop to the next section of the sloped town. Steeling himself, he climbed up onto it, his legs hanging off the edge as he looked down. From where he sat, he could see the burning, hazy silhouette of the buildings below. It was like a vision of hell, and he was trapped in it. 

Taking a breath, he paused, looking down at jump he had ahead. He had never been good at sports, and even with his recent attempts at going to the gym, he doubted he’d grown much better. That thought filled him with hesitation, and all at once he could feel his limbs begin to freeze, his fears reflecting in his control of his body. 

“No, no, no,” Ryou muttered aloud, realising he couldn’t move. “This is… just a dream. If it’s a dream, I can make the jump.” His vocal affirmation worked, and he felt the numbness leaving him, though his breath was now sharp.  
  
_Was this a dream?_

He pushed the thought away, too worried by the implications if it weren’t. He would worry about that once he was awake. 

With new found willpower, he pushed off the edge, huffing as his legs struck the ground. The shock made his hips hurt, but it wasn't enough to stop him from continuing on. 

He didn't even know how far he had gone, but the longer he was in the dream, the more aware he seemed to grow. Where were the people? He hadn't seen a single soul, the burning buildings and roads deserted. Was he alone? 

As if in answer, a sound that was neither the roar of fire or the of cracking wood met his ears. It was distant, so distant. He stood still, resting against a building as his ears strained to hear it again. 

Sure enough, there was no doubt. He could hear the sound of a child crying, of choked sobs and desperate cries, echoing below the sound of the destruction around him. His chest seized painfully. 

He had to find them. 

Ryou began to follow his ears. He doubled back, down a street that took him past a fallen building, flames spitting out at him when he tried to pass. Gritting his teeth, he looked back around for something that could help him. If he didn't find whoever was in trouble, there was no doubt the flames would reach them. 

“Come in Ryou, if you were in a game, what would you do?” He wondered aloud. 

He would probably test his luck and roll his dice to make a jump past the flames, or use magic to quell it. Only he couldn't do either of those things, so instead he turned his attention to the building opposite.

Like everything else, it was on fire, but he could see through the smoke that the interior had yet to catch alight. If he squinted, he could make out a door on the opposite side.

He didn't even think as he made a run through. It had clearly been a home, the straw beds against the wall where in various stages of disarray, as if the occupants had left in a hurry.  

He raised his hands to the heat, making his way through until he found the opening on the other side, leading out onto the street beyond. The visibility even lower now, and he coughed as the smoke filled his lungs, staggering blindly ahead. 

All he had to guide him was the sound of the crying. He listened intently, heart thumping when he heard it near his immediate right. He broke into a half run, turning down a side road where several buildings intersected, their shadows hiding the small square from the glare of the flames and smoke. 

Huddle up against a door frame, dressed in a simple linen dress, was a child. 

He had his hands covering his ears, chin pressed against his knees as he sobbed, his thick white hair obscuring his eyes. It seemed there were no tears though, too dehydrated from the dry air for there to be any left. 

Staring in shock, Ryou was momentarily locked in place. 

It was a feeling. No. A sensation. One of familiarity. For the 10 years Ryou had carried the ring, he'd inadvertently become accustomed to the presence of  another, the lingering feeling of not being alone that had become a part of his everyday life. 

He hadn't realised he felt it until after the presence was gone. The shadow of his other self. The spirit of the Millenium Ring. 

It had been a long time since he'd felt it, but he knew instinctively that the boy in front of him was the same. It was him. His breath caught with a mixture of fear and confusion. Why. Why was he here?

It wasn't what Ryou had imagined. 

He stepped forward, and then again, closing the distance, until there was no less than a metre between them. Instinctively, his fingers brushed against the front of his shirt, feeling for the item that he knew wasn't there. 

His chest had started to hurt now, in his core. 

The feeling. It was the same, but it was also different. 

“E-excuse me, are you ok?” Hearing his own voice surprised him, it sounded louder than he'd intended, echoing. 

He held his breath as the other's sobbing choked to a halt, and the head that had been tilted away from him jerked up in response. 

Silver tinted lavender, almost grey, and puffy and bloodshot. His eyes were like two full moons. He looked confused, _scared_ , Ryou could see his gaze darting from his face to his hands to his clothes. He did nothing more, and Ryou felt his held breath release. 

There was no recognition there. He didn't know him. 

“Come on, we need to get out of here, the fire…” He held out his hand, watching the way the boy's body tensed at the movement. 

After a pause, the other spoke. 

Ryou had no idea what he had said. Of course he wouldn't. The spirit was speaking ancient egyptian - mumbled and broken, his voice filled with fear. 

Taking a deep breath, Ryou lowered himself to a crouch, so that he was level with the other, the boy's gaze piercing and suspicious. 

Not knowing what else to do, he held out his hand again, holding is breath. For a moment the other didn't move, sizing Ryou up with a long stare. The sound of fire and destruction crashed in the distance, though it was further away now. 

“Believe it or not, despite everything, I do want to help you,” Ryou murmured, knowing the other probably didn't know or remember Japanese, but wanting to say it all the same. 

And though it was clear from the confusion that knitted the boys brows that he hadn't understood - perhaps it was Ryou's tone, or his soft, sincere expression that convinced him to trust him. The kindness Ryou displayed something that he hadn't experienced often in his short life. 

He took his hand, and everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An establishing chapter, I hope not too tiresome with exposition. Mentions DSOD, but you don't need to have seen it to follow the plot. Things will speed up from here!

The darkness swelled. Shifting like waves, black against black, inky tendrils and whips of vapour. It had been disturbed. It’s prize stolen. The thick air, like water, trembled as a rumble shuddered through it’s space. 

A light. 

At first, Ryou thought he was back in his bed. His eyes felt heavy, and when he opened them, he saw only darkness. He stared upwards for a time, mind blank, until something niggled at the back of his mind - something felt  _ off.  _

With that thought, other things came to him too, like how cold he felt, and how quiet it was. He shifted where he lay, only to realise he wasn't lying, vertigo seizing him as he almost toppled forward, his legs unnaturally heavy. 

The darkness he'd been gazing into seemed to shift now, the edges of it swirling at the corner of his eye. 

Was he still dreaming? 

In a futile attempt to wake himself, Ryou bit the inside of his mouth. He winced as the pain shot through the soft flesh, finding his breath coming shorter. 

Up until then, he'd been keeping himself calm with rationalisations. It was a dream. He had to be safe. He hadn't touched the Ring in years. Whatever was happening was just an echo, or some left over magic. 

Why, then…? 

At the thought of the ring, the memory of his earlier vision came back to him. Of the boy, and the fire. He looked down at his hand, the one he'd reached out with. 

“Did you bring me here?” he thought aloud, voice shaking. 

**_No_ **

__ -  _ _ __ That voice!  _ _

Ryou spun around, finding only more darkness, gritting his teeth in frustration. He knew he'd recognised it, earlier, when he'd fallen asleep at his desk. The hollow, emotionless voice. He'd heard it before, in all his dreams since they started the dig at Kul Elna. 

“Who are you?” Ryou asked aloud, voice rising as he took a step forward into the swirling void. 

**_You bought yourself here. With your meddling._ **

“My - meddling?” Ryou replied, but already knew the answer. The dig site. The knife. 

**_Owed to the darkness, ties severed and fate preordained. To relive his failures and sins for all eternity._ **

“What does that have to do with me?” Ryou replied, and paused, breath growing short from the thick air. The spirit. “He's all yours, isn't he?” 

**_No. Like the Other, he had a anchor, a soul that was destined to bear the burden of the Ring. And now, your insistence on chasing his fate has rekindled that connection._ **

_ Connection _ \- Ryou could feel his legs begin to tremble. Whatever was happening, wherever he was, he couldn't resist it. 

**_You pulled him from the darkness he promised himself to._ **

“I didn't… I- he was just a  _ child!”  _ He yelled, frustrated, his hands clenched into fists, his legs giving way as he fell to his knees. “I don't know who or what you are, but if rescuing a child is something I should be punished for, then… you're…” By now his throat was starting to constrict, and he could feel his eyes watering from the strain the breathe. 

He fell to the ground, and Ryou could feel himself slipping into unconsciousness, his mind reeling. He thought of Amane, and of his mother, and wondered if he'd get to see them again. Finally. 

**_You would spare him again?_ **

The question thumped in his head, and he could feel the darkness around him pulsing. The scar on his hand seemed to twinge in reminder. But… Despite everything. He wasn't a monster that would condemn anyone to that fate. 

“I… would.” Ryou coughed defiantly, sitting up and glaring into the dark. 

**_Then destiny will tie you yet again, and you will know regret._ **

 

* * *

  
  


This time, he really was in his bed. 

His body ached, from his muscles right through to his bones. He felt like he'd been crushed,  stretched. His chest hurt the most, and he struggled to move, groaning as his sweat soaked clothes shifted against his skin. 

Managing to sit up, he held his head in his hands, blinded by the headache that hit him. 

Everything about that dream. Vision.  _ Nightmare.  _ Had been wrong. The way he felt, as if his physical body had been there itself. It was almost like what he knew of a shadow game. Of what he'd seen happen to his friends in recordings of the Battle City Tournament. 

Of what he'd seen happen to himself. 

So, if he was still alive, did it mean he'd won? 

Feeling the headache residing, he carefully moved to the edge of his bed, slowly, so he didn't inevitably make himself feel worse. 

His room was dimly lit from the light that came past his blinds, and he blinked as his feet found the floor. 

In the centre of his room, with the pile of clothes that he'd been meaning to collect, was the outline of a shape he couldn't place. 

He stared at it, still sleep deprived and confused from his dream, mind slowly trying to make sense of it. No, it certainly wasn't a blanket. Nor was it his bag, which he'd left in the living room. It was… Almost like… 

It was a body. 

Ryou was suddenly very much awake. 

He sat there, heart thumping dangerously fast, watching it. He half expected it to move, to sit up and send him climbing behind his bed out of fear. But it didn't, in fact, it was completely still. 

Reaching for his lamp on the bedside table, he felt his fingers shaking against the switch as he flipped it. 

The room brightened with a glare, casting shadows across the floor, illuminating the mess of his desk and piled up papers. He winced at the light, his eyes complaining and watering from the brightness. 

After some moments of adjusting, his gaze fell to the body on the floor. 

Naked and sprawled on their side, skin the colour of almond, with a mess of ash white hair, was a man. They were so clearly male that Ryou had to force his eyes away. Grabbing a blanket off his bed, he crept close enough to throw it haphazardly over their lower body. 

Ryou stood back, staring at him. It was hard to guess his age, his face was badly scarred down one side, and half obscured by his hair and the dim light. His body was muscular, and Ryou could see scarring along his chest and back. 

Kneeling, he looked closer, relieved to find that he was breathing, his chest slowly rising and falling as Ryou watched. 

He had no idea what to do. 

The spirit hadn't woken from the sudden light, or from the touch of the blanket. Ryou worried his bottom lip as he considered the situation. It was clear that, somehow, his actions in the dream had bought this about, and now he had the living, breathing body of an ancient egyptian lying on the floor of his bedroom. 

The one whose soul had possessed the millennium ring.

What if he was as dangerous as he had been back then? And how was he was going to handle him once he woke? His thoughts immediately turned to the scar on his hand, on his arm. 

Taking out his phone, he glanced at the time. He'd got maybe six hours of sleep, if the vision he'd been stuck in even counted, and he could still feel the exhaustion from the previous day weighing on him. 

His first thought was to call somebody. Call Malik. That idea struck him in his chest, and Ryou turned his gaze back to the silent figure on his floor.

No. He couldn't get him involved. Malik had enough to worry about without dragging the past back into his life. 

Groaning, he covered his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes. It wasn't the time to panic, or to think about what ifs. The reality was that he had to do  _ something,  _ and that started with preparing himself for the worst. 

Stepping over the unconscious body, he quietly opened his door, slipping out into the hallway as silently as he could. 

Once outside, he crept through the dark towards the kitchen. Deciding that there was no such thing as being too careful, he grabbed every sharp utensil he owned and wrapped them in a teatowel. Staring at the dangerous arrangement in his hands, he looked about his apartment for somewhere the other wouldn't think to look. 

Pulling the refrigerator out was easy, and he put the bundle behind it, moving it back to its original place without issue. 

Next was what to do about the lack of  _ clothes.  _

He peeked into his room again. The other hadn't moved, still sprawled on the floor, his arms curled around his head. He looked so harmless, and Ryou felt bad for doubting him as much as he was - but then, he knew better than anyone what he was capable of. 

Tiptoeing around him, he opened the built in wardrobe that ran along the side of his room, kneeling down to fish through his boxes of paraphernalia and yet to be unpacked books. 

Over the years, his father had sent him an assortment of ill-fitting clothes, usually much too big, or just not his style. For once, they were going to come in handy. 

As he pulled out a pair of baggy sports pants, a soft groan sounded from behind him. Every muscle in Ryou’s body twitched in shock. 

Breath short, he tried to keep calm as he turned around, eyes landing on the body. He'd moved. Was moving, rolled onto his stomach, his head in his hands. 

Backing up against his wardrobe, Ryou yelped as a jacket fell from it’s hanger, startling him as it landed on his head.  

The sound of his surprise drew a snarl from the other, who immediately sat up, Ryou frozen in place as he watched him looked around the room, his back to him.  

“Nng… Where… This…” The voice was low, somewhat hoarse, and had an angered, confused edge to it. He spoke in accented Japanese. 

“You're in my room,” Ryou replied, watching with growing anxiety as every muscle in the others back tensed, making the criss-cross of scars there move together. 

“...Landlord?” 

Ryou winced at the use of his old nickname, and watched, breathless as the other turned to him, those piercing eyes reminding Ryou of his dream. They stared each other down. Ryou, sure he looked like a rabbit in headlights, and his former alter ego with a gaze that was almost  _ curious,  _ but in the most dangerous kind of way. “How am I here?”

That wasn't what Ryou had been expecting, and he blinked rapidly as he tried to think of an answer. “That's - I'm not sure -” 

“You’re the reason, aren't you?” Another pause, Ryou’s face surly reflecting some kind of guilt. “Hah... I didn't think you had it in you.” The voice was a little different, but the tone was familiarly condescending. Ryou could feel himself frowning. 

“You're welcome.” He replied bluntly, surprising himself and watching the others eyebrows raise. 

Suddenly, the spirit made to move, and Ryou held up a hand, “Wait! Wait - Please.” He leant forward, handing him the pants he’d found like he would offer a barking dog a treat. 

He watched as the grey eyes flicked from his face to his outstretched hand, before the pants were snatched from his grasp with a semblance of a smirk. Ryou looked away as he unabashedly - and most likely deliberately - pulled them on in the most obnoxious way possible. 

“Happy?” The spirit asked, cocking his head. “Now… tell me what the hell is going on.” Impatient. 

Ryou shifted back, until he was leaning against the wardrobe, knowing that he was cornered but still keeping himself calm. 

“I'll tell you, but to start, at least tell me your name. Calling you spirit seems wrong, now,” Ryou’s voice was a murmur. He’d asked him for his name many times, never receiving a reply, and he half expected him to get angry. But, instead, the other frowned, and then stood, cursing slightly as he took a moment to find his footing. Ryou watched as he glanced about his room. 

“I'll tell you, but you won't believe me. I'm sure.” He walked up to his desk, inspecting the computer with interest. 

“Just tell me.” Ryou replied, rubbing his neck. It already seemed like an eternity had passed since he’d been in his office, and it had only been 8 hours. 

“Bakura.”

For a wild moment he thought the other was addressing him, but it was soon obvious that the name was said in reply. Ryou frowned. Was he joking? “Please, that's not even  _ egyptian,  _ is it?”

‘Bakura’ burst into laughter, an entertained chuckle. “Would you like me to write it in hieroglyphs for you, landlord?” He turned back to him, the amused smirk on his face making his scar twist wickedly. Ryou continued to pout.

“I suppose it'll do…” He murmured, knowing he wasn't going to get anything else out of him. “So, what exactly do you want to know, anyway?”

Bakura’s expression shifted, apparently annoyed with the questioning, though Ryou wasn’t sure where he expected him to start. His defeat to Atem? The mess with  _ Diva _ and the ring? Ryou’s entire life up until the strange dreams he’d been having? 

“Tell me how I came to be here. You already admitted you had something to do with it.” 

“I -,” Ryou started with a frown, watching the impatience cross the other's face, and sighed. “To put it the short way… I had a dream about you.”

“A  _ dream?”  _ For one awful moment Ryou thought he was going to say something crass, but instead Bakura crossed his arms, his eyes moving downwards as he thought over Ryou’s words. “What kind of dream?”

“Well…” He paused, wondering if it was actually the best idea to tell him, biting his lip in a worried manner. Bakura didn’t seem like the type that would want Ryou to know anything of his past.

“Just spit it out, landlord,” His voice was sharp, and impatient. Ryou frowned. 

“I was in a burning village, trying to escape, and heard someone crying.”    
  
Immediately, that masked expression changed to one of shock, and Bakura stepped forward. 

“A burning village-? “

“ - when I ran through the fire to find them,-”

“- that’s enough -”

“ - I found a child -”

“ _ That’s enough.”  _ Bakura had stepped even closer to him, and the look on his face was enough to make Ryou go quiet, his shoulders hunched in what he was sure was barely contained rage. “Why… would you.” A pause, and Bakura’s brows furrowed, “Why would  _ you _ have a dream about-?” His voice cracked, and Ryou frowned. 

“I said I don’t know,” His voice raised this time, watching the way Bakura seemed to tremble. 

Concerned, he stood, slowly getting up as the other watched him, not speaking. Once fully righted he was surprised to find that Bakura, though muscular, was shorter than him. So much so that Ryou watched with a wince as he forced his grey eyes up to his face with a glare. 

_ Way to get him even more defensive.  _ He thought dryly, continuing with raised hands. “Just listen to me, ok?” Bakura didn’t say anything, but instead glowered at him, his expression was as venomous as ever. “I… don’t know how this happened. It’s been nearly seven years since I last wore the Ring…” He trailed off, watching the shock that passed over Bakura’s face, his eyes widening from underneath his fringe. “You don’t remember -”

“Shut up.” Bakura snapped, and turned from him, staring around the room for a moment before heading for the door. Ryou didn’t stop him, instead following him as he stalked into the hallway, paused, and then headed towards the living room. 

“I don’t know what you’re thinking right now but it’d really be better if you just listened to me,” Ryou said, voice rising with concern as he came to a stop between the kitchen and his couch. 

“I lost, didn’t I? To that royal piece of shit.” Ryou’s mouth dropped slightly at the profanity, not sure if he was supposed to reply until Bakura spoke again, his voice strained, as if through gritted teeth, “ _ didn't I?”  _

“You did.” He replied simply, watching Bakura’s shoulder blades knit together, his hands running back through his hair.

“Why… can't I… ngh..” Bakura made a sound of frustration, pulling at his hair so hard that Ryou could see it straining at the scalp. 

“H-hey - you need to stop, you’re going to hurt yourself.” Ryou stammered, stepping closer to him. He hadn’t imagined he’d be the type to self destruct - perhaps do something ridiculous and desperate - like stabbing his hand onto a very sharp scale model of a castle, but not like this. And never to himself. Because, in the end, it had always been Ryou’s body that bared the scars of his bad decisions. 

“Remind me why I’m helping you,” Ryou groaned under his breath, before stepping closer again and grabbing Bakura by the arm, moving to be in his line of sight. “Please calm down.” 

Bakura looked up at him, but his gaze was distant, as if he weren’t really seeing him. Then, before Ryou could react, his hands were gripping the front of his shirt, close enough to his neck to make him yelp. “Where's the ring?”

This was bad. His heart thumped in his ears. 

“It's… gone.” Ryou replied slowly, waiting to be thrown to the ground, or worse. Instead, the hands gripping his shirt released him. 

“Gone.” Bakura repeated, now looking about the room as if it was going to appear in front of him. 

“A guy named Diva… when he put it on, it turned him into a monster. And then it vanished.” Ryou explained, but figured it likely only made things more confusing. “It's gone, and so is the puzzle, and the pharaoh, and all the rest of the items, too. They're gone.”

Bakura was still looking anywhere but at him, occasionally holding a hand to his temple. Whether he was in pain or struggling to remember, Ryou wasn’t sure, but his expression was growing more distressed. Finally, after several moments of Ryou watching and hoping he didn’t start to tear at his scalp again, Bakura stumbled over to the couch and sat down, holding his head in his hands. 

Ryou frowned, hesitating. He knew so little about the spirit - about  _ Bakura.  _ His friends had only been able to tell him what they'd seen in the memory world - and it had been very little. What had happened there? Why did he hate Atem so much? What had the pharaoh done to fuel thousands of years of rage? 

He needed a coffee. 

He switched on the lights, and quietly set the kettle to boil, before moving to grind the beans. Bakura still hadn't moved. 

Would he be hungry? Was he even really alive? Ryou decided there was only one way to find out. 

He carried the drinks to the coffee table, and sat on the opposite end of the couch to Bakura, glancing at him. He was still curled in on himself. Ryou frowned. 

As he did, his attention was drawn to his bag that he'd dropped there the night before. Picking it up, he put it beside him before reaching for his coffee and taking a long draught. 

“What are you doing.” It didn't even sound like a question, as Bakura managed to make it an accusation. He was peering at Ryou from behind the arms he had wrapped around his knees.

“I'm having a coffee, I made you something, too.”

“I didn't want anything.”

Ryou just shrugged, and put his cup back down, before opening up his bag and making to take out his laptop. As he did, his hand found something he didn't recognise. 

Pulling it out slowly, he felt his heart all but stop. 

It was the package with the items from Kul Elna. 

“What the…” Ryou muttered, turning it over and weighing it in his hand. He was sure he'd left it on his desk. 

“What is it?” Bakura sat up, peering at the package from behind his bangs. For the first time that morning, Ryou finally could see him in a decent light. 

He was muscular, very. With little fat from what Ryou could see. His chest was marred by several scars, and not to mention the one that ran down his face. It looked almost deliberate - as if whoever had been holding the knife had been aiming to leave a mark, a brand. Ryou felt his stomach turn. 

“Landlord?” 

Ryou blinked. He'd been staring at him for way too long, and was well aware of it. Bristling slightly, he shook his head. “It's nothing, it's just…” He looked back down at the package, blinking. 

The knife. 

“Actually… It might be something.” 

Then, without warning, Bakura snatched the parcel right out of his hands. 

“Hey!” Ryou exclaimed, trying to take it back, but to no avail. Bakura was incredibly dexterous, and held it away from him, still eyeing it with interest. “Please be careful, some of that is fragile!”

“Oh, that explains why it was in your bag, then.” Bakura commented with a roll of his eyes. Ryou’s mouth hung open. 

“Give it back now!” He was getting more distressed, and he grabbed at the others arm insistently. For a change it seemed like Bakura was actually listening to him.

“Calm down,” he said, which Ryou thought was awfully rich given his earlier behaviour. He lowered the parcel, though didn't hand it back, instead carefully poking at the opened end. “What is it?”

“It's…” He watched as he went to pull out one of the items. “It's archaeological pieces… That were found at the dig site in Kul Elna.”

Bakura stopped, and looked right at him. “ _ Kul Elna?” _

“Given how you reacted I didn’t exactly have time to give you the whole story!” Ryou replied, exasperated. 

“Why do you have items from Kul Elna?” Bakura asked, ignoring his raised voice. 

Ryou stared back at him, wondering why he felt so guilty all of a sudden. “Because it's where I've been working. I'm writing reports on what we find.”

Bakura's expression shifted slightly, though Ryou couldn't read it. “For that to be true, you'd have to be living in egypt.”

Ryou blinked, stared back at him for a moment, and then stood, walked to the blinds than ran the length of the room, and tugged at the string to open them. 

Cairo was beautiful in the mornings, especially from the view Ryou had. He lived in one of the apartments his father owned, and that meant he could see as far as the pyramids on days the dust and sand didn't obscure them. 

It was one of those days. 

He carefully glanced at Bakura, who was studying the view with a guarded expression. Ryou wondered what his opinion on the pyramids, relics of the Pharaohs, would be. 

“I've been here for a year.” He explained as he sat back down, his eyes falling on the scars that marred Bakura's chest, highlighted by the sun coming through the window. Swallowing, he looked back down to the package in his hands. “A few months ago, one of the teams found a knife there… ever since then, I'd been having trouble sleeping.”

“Dreams?” Bakura asked, sounding curious. “That's… interesting.” As he spoke, he started to pull out the items, Ryou chewing on his lip as he watched. 

The first was the signet ring, which Bakura inspected for a moment before putting it aside in the coffee table. When he pulled out the vase piece next, Ryou let out an audible sound sigh of relief, seeing that it was still in tact. Bakura raised an eyebrow at this, but didn't comment, instead making to pull out the next item. He stared at it once it was in front of him. 

“That's it.” Ryou murmured, eyes following the knife. Bakura didn't reply, twirling it in his hand. Ryou watched him, seeing the way his eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment.

Finally, he spoke. 

“That was obvious.” His voice was low. “It used to be mine.” Ryou didn't comment, watching instead the way Bakura was playing with it. He made it seem like it weighed nothing, the blade moving between each of his fingers like magic until he flipped and caught it. “Enjoying the show?”

Ryou hadn't noticed he was leaning forward, and quickly sat back up. 

“I've just never seen anyone do that before.” He admitted, somewhat embarrassed by the smug look on Bakura's face. “Anyway, you said it was yours. How do you know?”

“You think knives like this came out of factories, identical to each other?” Bakura wondered with a scoff, “I know it,” He spun it some more, before catching it in his opposite hand and flipping it downwards, so that the hilt pointed to Ryou. “Here.”

Ryou stared, hesitant. 

“What? If I recall you used to carry a knife around with you. Don't tell me you've gotten soft.”

“You carried the knife. I just happened to share a body with you,” Ryou reminded him bluntly, before turning his attention back to the item, missing the frown that overtook Bakura's face at his words. “Last time I held it, something odd happened…” 

“...Oh?”

“Last night, I was looking at it, and I… I thought it cut me.” He paused, holding up his hand. “But when I looked, there was no blood, even though I was sure I felt the blade” He wiggled the fingers on his left hand, inspecting his palm. A few moments passed like that, and he realised Bakura hadn't replied. When he looked up at him, he found his grey gaze was locked on his scar. His brows were drawn, a distant expression of his face.  

“Bakura?” It was the other's turn to blink, drawing his eyes back to Ryou as he was pulled from his thoughts. “Any ideas?”

“... No.” He replied after a moment, though his voice sounded unsure, and Ryou watched with a frown as he put the knife down on the coffee table, along with the package. 

“Are you alright?” Ryou wondered, shifting over as Bakura bought his legs up to the couch in a sudden movement. 

“I'm going to sleep.” He announced, levelling Ryou with another one of his impatient glares. “Move.”

“You are?” Ryou replied, somewhat taken aback by Bakura’s announcement, he stood and frowned down at the man now rearranging his cushions. At least he wasn't trying to take his bed. “I'll close the blinds, then.” 

He went back lowered the blinds, and then turned off the lights for all but the hallway, chewing on his bottom lip as he did. 

Making his way back to the couch, he meant to collect the items again, but stopped short. Bakura was already asleep, hugging a cushion to his chest, his lips open slightly. 

Ryou took a deep breath, not sure of the feeling that came over him. Was it relief? Relief that the man that in the past had caused him so much trouble was being somewhat manageable? Or was it something else? 

He stood there for a moment in the dim light, and looked back down at his hand again. This time, the scar in the centre stood out more than Ryou had noticed earlier, too distracted by the memory. 

_ Where you remembering what you did?  _ He wondered, looking back up at the deceptively harmless looking figure on his couch.  _ Do you regret it?  _

 

* * *

 

Ryou smiled thankfully at the girl ringing up the pile of clothes he’d selected, watching the number go up on the screen. It wasn’t that much, truthfully. He spent more on games on a monthly basis, and it was worth it to make sure he didn’t have to see the other gallivanting around topless. 

Taking the escalator back down to the ground floor, Ryou was too distracted to pay much attention to the goings-on around him. In the back of his mind, he kept thinking worriedly about his new roommate. 

He’d left  _ Bakura  _ to sleep on his couch, somehow he knew even if he did wake he wouldn’t leave. Ryou was the only person Bakura would be able to rely on. 

His apartment being near the mall, he made it back home in good time. When he unlocked his door, he came to pause in the entrance. The blinds were still lowered, and the lights switched off, leaving the room in an odd, dim lighting that came from the sun seeping around the cracks in the blinds. 

Placing the groceries on the kitchen bench, Ryou crept over to the couch, somewhat relieved to find Bakura laying there, covered by the blanket he’d left earlier. Deciding it was best to let him rest, he put the bag of clothes down on the table and headed to the bathroom. 

The shower was a welcome relief. It felt good to wash the travel off, and he spent time washing his hair and standing under the water until his skin started to turn red from the heat.

Refreshed, he stepped out, pulling a towel around his waist. He briefly wondered what he should do for the rest of the day. He felt like sleeping more, but also wanted to look at the items from Kul Elna again. 

Kaiba would want his report.

Turning to the mirror, he brushed his damp hair out, pouting at his reflection wearily. Ryou tried not to dwell on it, but his eyes fell on the small, white scars that made a half circle in the centre of his chest. These, the scar on his left arm and the one on his hand where the only reminders left of his ownership of the millenium ring. 

Or they had been. 

Patting his damp hair one final time, he pulled his clothes on and headed back to the living room, peeking over the couch. Bakura was still asleep. Ryou made a soft noise of relief, and went around to sit by the coffee table. Pulling up his laptop, he opened his half-written report and started to type. 

He'd taken up Kaiba’s offer on a whim, surprised when he had approached him. He had already known the billionaire continued to reserve interest in the site at Kul Elna, even if they were selfish ones. Being offered the chance to serve as the key researcher on the dig had been too tempting for Ryou to resist - especially when he still had his own reasons for wanting to research the past of Millenium items. 

In that regard, the two of them had shared a common goal. Though it ended there. Kaiba had always been too harsh for Ryou to handle for long periods of time, and Ryou got the sense that he was too mild-mannered to keep Kaiba entertained. 

Continuing with his report, he'd been working for around half an hour when a noise distracted him, making him look up from his laptop to where Bakura lay asleep on the couch. 

The other had spoken, he was sure, though he hadn't properly heard him. 

Looking at him now in the dim light of the room, he could see his brows where knotting together, his expression anything but peaceful.

He shifted closer, stopping when more words came tumbling from the others mouth. 

Despite not understanding, he could hear the edge of fear to his voice, and it was enough to spur him into standing and going to Bakura's side. He knelt down beside him and carefully shook his shoulder, his skin hot to touch. “Hey. Are you ok?”

For a moment he was worried Bakura wouldn't wake, but his expression trembled, and then shifted to confusion as two grey eyes met Ryou’s blue. “What…” his voice was strained. 

“You looked like you were having a nightmare. I was worried.”

Bakura's expression shifted again, a frown. Ryou pulled back as he watched him sitting up, rubbing his temples. “You don't need to worry about me,” came his voice with a mutter. 

“Well, I do.” He trailed off, Bakura not meeting his eye, expression still hardened. “On that note, I bought you clothes,” he said, trying to lighten the darkened mood of the room. He stood, turning on the light and bringing the bags over from the table. “I, well, I wanted you to have a selection,” Ryou explained as Bakura's eyebrows rose at the size of the three separate bags in his arms. 

“I can see that,” he replied, sitting up some more and shifting closer to take one, seeming somewhat taken aback.  

Ryou watched as he started to pull out the clothes, a small almost-smile at the edge of his lips.

“If you hate anything, tell me and I'll return it.” He explained as he watched him begin to separate the clothes into piles. 

Bakura hummed absentmindedly in agreement, holding up one of the loose tank tops Ryou had picked out. He pulled it on, apparently happy with the fit.

“I'll leave you to it, then?” Ryou asked finally, picking up his laptop to move to his bedroom. He didn't want to be there when Bakura started trying on pants. 

Before he had a chance to go, though, Bakura stopped him, “Wait a moment.” Ryou looked back, surprised by the odd tone to his voice, Bakura turning to face him from the couch. His face was pulled into a pained expression, and he seemed to be struggling to meet his eye. A few moments passed, and he finally spoke. “Thank you.”

 “Wha-”

“I said thank you,” he sounded frustrated, and looked up at Ryou with an intense expression, “for the clothes.”

Ryou stared at him, but before he could reply, Bakura had his back to him again, not waiting to see what he thought of his sudden display of gratitude. 

And, honestly, Ryou didn’t know what to think. 

“You’re welcome.” He called back, feeling dizzy. Was it a trick? No, there was no way that odd behaviour was acting. Dazed, he wandered to his room, sitting down at his desk and gazing aimlessly at his computer, the whiplash of what had just happened making his head hurt. 

There was. Definitely. Undebatably. Something different about Bakura.  _ Something.  _ Well, there were several somethings now, really. Ryou’s chest was suddenly very, very tight. 

It was at odds with everything he’d come to accept about him - about the spirit. That he’d been an antagonistic, evil person. _A_ _demon_ , as what his friends had told him. He’d tried to destroy the world, he’d used him as a puppet, as a means to an end. 

He’d just thanked him for giving him clothes. 

Ryou didn’t realise he was crying until a sob choked out of him, and he covered his mouth, not about to let the other hear him. Relief? Was it relief? Was it denial? He breathed deeply, trying to reign in control of his wayward emotions. He’d accepted it. He’d accepted that he’d been the inheritor of the ring. That - he would never get answers. 

No, that was wrong.

He’d wanted answers, desperately. He’d gone to egypt, agreed to work with Kaiba, because he wanted to know  _ why.  _

Why. 

Ryou stood, wiping his cheeks on his sleeve. 

If the Bakura in his living room and the one that had tormented him where really different, then maybe. Maybe this was what he’d been hoping for. 

 

* * *

  
He spent the rest of the evening trying to finish his report, distracted by the sound of Bakura in the next room. He finally snuck out when he started to get hungry, finding his new roommate reclined on the couch, the television on with subtitles - though he wasn’t watching it, instead turning the old knife slowly in his hands. 

Ryou swallowed. He’d changed his clothes, now wearing a pair of black harem-style sweatpants. They hung so low on his hips that he could even see that he’d put on briefs, too, the red tee he was wearing pulled up to his midriff. 

“You hid all the knives.”

Ryou nearly choked as Bakura’s gaze found his. 

“Have you been sitting here just waiting for me to come out so you could say that?” Ryou asked suspiciously, not bothering to ask why Bakura would have been looking for a knife. “Because if so, that's ridiculous, even for you.”

“There’s not much else for me to do.” 

“So you admit you like to torment me, I suppose that’s no surprise.” Bakura just snorted, and Ryou stepped closer to see which clothes Bakura had discarded. As he did, his gaze caught on the coffee table. There was an extra plate than there had been before, dusted with crumbs. 

“Did you… make food?” Ryou wondered, starting to understand why Bakura had needed cutlery.  

“You sound concerned, it doesn’t take much to make some toast.” Bakura replied. It had only been a few hours, and he was already making himself at home. “Though, a knife would have been helpful.” He added, his gaze moving up to meet Ryou’s. 

“You can’t blame me, given your track record.” 

There was a pause as the other stared, grey eyes narrowed, examining him. “You’ve gotten more confident, haven’t you?” His voice was low.

Ryou took a breath, before turning to see what damage had been done to his kitchen. “Being 23 rather than 16 tends to do that.” He called back behind his shoulder, though found his chest pang slightly. For whatever reason, that comment made him feel odd. Happy? No, it wasn’t that. But it was something. 

The feeling was quickly forgotten when he made it to the kitchen. 

Ryou didn’t consider himself a picky person when it came to most things in his life. His room was often a mess, his bathroom average, and sometimes he forgot to brush his hair in the morning. 

His kitchen, however, was one place he took seriously.

The butter and jam had been left out, and a dirty spoon on the bench beside them. He could see just by looking at it that it had been used for both without being washed beforehand. He picked it up between his thumb and forefinger. 

He could just leave it be, wash it, ignore it. But Ryou had done enough of ignoring the things Bakura did, had done, and his earlier comment seemed to ring in his head as he walked back over to the couch and dropped the offending spoon onto his chest. 

“What the hell-” 

“I realise I didn’t make it clear earlier, so I will now.” Ryou said, crossing his arms sternly. He could feel annoyance bubbling up in his chest. “I’m not going to let you get away with whatever you want. Starting with making a mess of my apartment. Clean it.  _ Please _ .” 

Bakura picked up the spoon, glancing at the smear of jam it had left on the t-shirt and then back to Ryou. His gaze was dangerous, but there was a twitch to his lips. Rather than say anything, he got up and went around to the sink, washing it in a perturbing silence. 

Ryou almost regretted saying anything, worried he’d set off one of Bakura’s moods, and waited uncomfortably as he came back around. 

“Did you want me to wear these clothes or not?” Bakura asked, leaning against one of the bar stools. His gaze was still one that Ryou couldn’t read, but his words were said with a hint of entertainment.  

“ _ Thank you _ , and very funny…” He paused, noting the jam blotch that the spoon had caused. Now he felt bad. “Just wash it in the bathroom.” 

Bakura snickered, walking past him to where the bathroom was. 

Ryou watched him go, still confused, and surprised by how well that had gone - having expected more argument. More of - what he was used too. 

He wasn’t even sure someone that spent 3000 years with their soul trapped in a necklace would still express emotions like a normal human. Had he lived those years? Or had it been like sleeping? 

Making his way back to the kitchen to make a snack, he remembered the way the spirit had sounded in the back of his mind - cold, mocking, always on the edge of some mad burst of laughter. He’d rarely spoken to him after the event with the tabletop game - but the snippets he’d gotten had been enough to paint an image of him in his mind. Of a man driven by nothing but anger and hate, willing to lie and manipulate to get what he wanted. 

Ryou stared down at his bowl of cereal, the oat clusters mixing with the milk. 

In the dream, that presence had felt so similar, but different - the boy, crying and alone in the middle of an endless, burning nightmare. Fearful, unsure, hesitant. 

Was the Bakura in his bathroom right now the boy or the spirit - or both?

Ryou put his milk away, and butter and jam along with it. Taking his bowl over to the table, he ate a spoonful, mind clouding with questions that had no answers. He hoped that, if he could manage to get Bakura to listen to him without derailing the conversation, then maybe they could figure out what was happening together. 

Speaking of which, he’d been gone for an awfully long time. 

Ryou ate a few more mouthfuls, glancing down the hallway to where the bathroom door was. He could see it was open, and strained his ears - listening for the sound of the running tap, or perhaps Bakura destroying his things, but he couldn’t hear anything. 

Too curious for his own good, Ryou stood, leaving his cereal half finished as he made to investigate. He tiptoed up to the door, peeking around it and blinking slowly at what he saw. Bakura was leaning forward, hands gripping the edge of the basin, his knuckles white. He was topless, the t-shirt discarded on the benchtop, Ryou could see his face from the reflection in the mirror. 

He was looking at himself, but his expression was anything but vain. His mouth was set in a thin line, eyes intense and moving slowly, following the lines of the scars on his chest. His body seemed stiff and on edge, like a spring about to snap back. Ryou swallowed. 

Had he never seen himself like this before? 

“Bakura?” He made himself known, not wanting to be caught watching what seemed like such a private moment. The other looked up abruptly at the sound of his voice, finding him in the reflection. He frowned. 

“What is it?” 

“You’d just been a while, I was making sure you hadn’t started going through my cabinet.” Ryou replied, though found his voice had an edge of concern that he hadn’t been intending.  

Bakura’s expression shifted to a wry smirk, and he turned, collecting the shirt from beside him. “I’d hate to make you worry,” he said as he pulled it back on, Ryou noting the way his abs stretched with his raised arms, and how his almond skin looked nearly golden under the warm light. He tore his gaze away before Bakura noticed. 

“Well, I thought I could try to explain things.” Ryou continued, turning to head back down the hall. Behind him, Bakura hummed, apparently in agreement, and trailed behind him like a shadow as he went to sit again at the table. 

He watched as Bakura jumped over the back of the couch, his head poking over to look at him, a small, questioning  _ pout  _ on his lips. Ryou pulled his bowl closer. “You can sit on a chair, you know.”

“I prefer it here.”

“I suppose I'll just talk across the room then,” Ryou replied with raised eyebrows.

“Start by telling me about your dream again. And the knife.” Bakura said, sitting backwards on the couch, both arms hanging over the headrest. 

Ryou hesitated at that, eyeing him with caution. The memory of being grabbed by his shirt, and Bakura trying to tear his own hair out still fresh in his mind. His worry must have shown because Bakura inclined his head.

“Go on.”

“Well…” He tried to explain things in order, like the dream he'd had in his office, and the voice that had taunted him. Bakura was miraculously quiet, letting him speak, except for when it came to his dream of Kul Elna. 

“You don't need to describe it.” His gaze was directed towards him, but seemed far away when Ryou skipped over the details, coming to his meeting with the child. With him. 

“When I took his - your hand, everything went black,” he explained, staring down at his empty bowl. “I realised I had been taken somewhere, surrounded by darkness, and I heard the voice from before.” He paused, trying to remember what they had said. “It… was angry. I think, that I had helped you.” He let out a frustrated noise, trying to grab onto the memory, but finding it fading the more he tried to reach it. “I… can't remember what it said.” 

He was silent for a moment, brows knitted together, chin resting in his hand. He chewed aimlessly at one of his fingers as he thought on it, going over everything again in his head, as if it would trigger something. Bakura's voice interrupted his thoughts. 

“So, a voice from the dark was angry that you helped me.” He sounded more curious than worried by this, and when Ryou looked up, he was playing with the old knife again, twirling it aimlessly. 

“I think they'd spoken to me in other dreams, too, but I don't remember them.” He said, picking up his bowl and walking to the kitchen, putting it in the sink with a clatter. Bakura watched him from the couch, flipping the knife now, not even watching it as he caught it in his hand. Ryou frowned. “Don't you have any theories? You were always the one that knew about these things…” 

The knife throwing stopped.

“I don't.” Bakura turned from him, and Ryou could see him lean forward to put the knife back down on the coffee table. “All I know is that I'm here somehow. Because of you.” There was a long moment of silence. Ryou didn't know what to say, simply staring at the back of his head from the kitchen. He couldn't tell if what he was hearing was an accusation, or gratitude.

“I… suppose so,” Ryou said finally, his voice a murmur. He looked back down at the sink, suddenly very tired. He'd thought that if he told Bakura everything, that he'd know. Know why he was back, how he was back. Maybe gloat a bit. Call him landlord some more. Instead, he seemed as confused as he was, and that was something Ryou hadn't even considered possible. 

“I’m going to order pizza.” Ryou remarked, peering over the couch at him. Bakura glanced up, staring for a moment from behind his bangs. It felt like his eyes where going to bore a hole in to him. “Um, do you have a preference for toppings?” Ryou could feel himself getting flustered.

Bakura blinked slowly, looking away in thought, “I like pork.” 

It seemed he was back to brooding. 

Which suited Ryou just fine. If Bakura was content to leave him be and spin the old knife in his hands, he wasn’t going to complain - though he would have to eventually confiscate the item. It belonged to the Kaiba Corporation now, and Ryou was sure any claims of Bakura being the rightful owner would be met with scorn. 

The pizza arrived, and Ryou took three slices for himself, leaving the remainder on the table for Bakura, who responded with despondent grunts at his offering.  

“I'm going to sleep.”

“Hmm.”

“Don't stay up for too long.”

His advice was met with a long, unblinking stare of disapproval. Ryou sighed. “Well, I'm turning off the lights. I'll see you in the morning, then.”

Not waiting for a reply, knowing one wouldn't come, he went to his room, locking the door and letting out a long sigh as he leaned against it, staring into the dim light. 

First he'd thanked him, and now he was all but ignoring him. 

Not bad for day one, he figured. 

Getting changed, Ryou yawned loudly as the soft fabric of his sheets wrapped around him, his pillow welcoming his head. He curled up on himself, brain still mulling over the day anxiously, as always. 

Shutting his eyes helped none. 

There were still things that needed answers - things he wanted to ask. But he knew that to get them, he'd need to get Bakura to care enough to tell him. 

Whatever that would take.

* * *

The sound of the city below seemed to grow once Ryou retreated to his bedroom, along with all other sounds. Bakura heard the click of the lock from where he lay on the couch, staring up at the darkened ceiling. Ryou didn't trust him. He didn't expect him to. 

He lay there for what seemed like an eternity, spinning the old knife aimlessly, hoping that if he gazed up into the darkness for long enough, his memories would return to him. 

Eventually, his back started to hurt from the awkward position of his neck, and his arms tingled with goosebumps. 

It wasn't working. 

Sitting up, he looked back down at the other items. Taking a moment to scrutinise the sword hilt, and frowned at the plate, disappointed in how ordinary they were. Putting them back, he instead turned his attention to the signet ring, picking it up and running his thumb around it’s time-worn edge. 

There was a memory behind this, he could feel it, the sense that he’d once held something similar. But like most other things he’d tried to remember, it was more of a cloudy feeling than a clear recollection, swirling in the back of his mind, jumbled together in a confused mix.

He stared at it blankly, not liking the frustration that was rising again in his chest, putting it down and sitting back, his head tilting to rest on the couch as he closed his eyes and thought of the things he could remember. 

_ Violence, fire,  _ flashes of memory of his life. Darkness. Endless darkness, like the deepest water. Memories of feelings, of a hatred that he couldn’t describe, that even now he couldn’t seem to replicate, even if he thought of  _ him.  _

Memories of a boy with a soft smile and fearful blue eyes. Of cruelty. 

He sat up, putting the knife back on the coffee table and turning to peer over at the table. The pizza was still out. Cold, now, surly. But he was hungry, and it was better than nothing. 

He ate the meaty, soggy leftovers in the dark, annoyed by how his stomach grumbled thankfully. It had been so long since he'd felt hunger. Although he could remember the feeling well - too well. The memory of being so hungry he could hardly move. Of how good simple scraps tasted. 

He finished the pizza. 

Those weren't the things he'd wanted to remember, but they came back in painful waves that he couldn't ignore, and that left him feeling the whiplash of helplessness that came with them. 

_ I'm not a child anymore.  _ He reminded himself defiantly, and found his feet leading the way to the blind covered window, and behind it, to the door that led to the small balcony. He stepped out into the cold, eyes locking onto the distant shapes of the pyramids. 

**_“But you are a failure.”_ **

The voice echoed around him, and every inch of his body tensed in reaction, although he knew there was no one there to fight. Swallowing hard, he turned. The light from the city reflected off the windows, the dark of the apartment turning it into a mirror.

A growing sickness started in his chest as he stared at his reflection. Ryou stared back. Though his eyes were red, like the demon who had stolen his form, the twisted expression on his face not one that he would ever make. 

Bakura grimaced, a chill running down his spine that wasn't due to the cold. “Makes two of us, doesn't it, Zorc?” 

The wind whistled in his ears, and in a blink, the vision was gone, replaced with the image of himself - face hardened with a barely contained fear. 

_ Was he real?  _ Bakura wondered, breathing heavily.  _ Am I going to be haunted forever?  _

He stood there, frozen in a swirl of doubt until the sound of distant sirens broke through, reminding him of where he was. He turned back to the view of the pyramids, something stirring in his chest. It was neither doubt or helplessness. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes a good boy.

Bakura slept restlessly. But he slept, at least. Expecting to be visited again by the demon that lurked in the corner of his memories, but he never came. Instead, he dreamed of sand and sun and dark, torch lit streets. Of standing atop smooth, squared roofs and watching goings on of the night like a cat. Of people speaking in a language he knew but didn’t - of a different life. 

His life. 

He woke up when the sun began to lighten the room, the blinds displaced from when he had pushed them aside the night before. It was early, and the digital clock Ryou had beside the television reflected as much. Too early for the insomniac in the other room to be awake. 

Bakura started the day by looking over the items from Kul Elna again, not expecting anything to happen, but finding their familiarity somewhat calming. The knife especially. It’s finely carved handle and well weighted design - easy to throw, easy to hold and flip. 

Inspecting it for the hundredth time, he tried to remember more of it. He’d known it when he saw it, without question. It was unique. He could envision a vague memory, cloudy and foggy but just within his reach - of a man with skin a shade darker than his own playing with it at a table, of himself watching from a distance, enthralled. 

Of a time before everything he knew was destroyed. 

He put the knife back down and stood. He needed to find a way to remember more, and he had an idea of how. 

He knocked on Ryou’s door. Well, ‘hammered on’ was probably the better term. It’s frame shuddered from the insistancy. It didn’t take long to get a response. 

“ _ It’s 6am!”  _ Annoyed. Tired.

Bakura found himself holding back a chuckle. Ryou’s growing impatience towards him was more amusing than it should have been, given their past. “I wanna talk.” He tried to keep the smirk out of his voice. 

The sound of rustling, grumbling, and the footsteps followed, and then the click as the door was unlocked. Ryou appeared from behind it, hair a fluffy white mess and eyes half lidded - still struggling to wake up. He was older, but still had a softness to his face that made it hard to guess his age - so different to the way the demon in his reflection had appeared. 

Ryou stared at him. He never let himself look outwardly angry, but the way his shoulders stiffened was enough of a giveaway. “It’s 6am.” 

“No better time than the present.” 

“I could make a few arguments against that…” Ryou mumbled, but stepped out of his room all the same, heading straight for the kitchen. Bakura trailed behind him, eyeing his pyjamas. Fitted and pale blue in colour, they hung off Ryou’s lean frame in an annoying way than made it hard to envision what was beneath. He’d always had a particularly conservative way of dressing.

“So... what is it?” Ryou asked in a defeated way, leaning against the kitchen bench and holding the mug of coffee he’d just prepared. 

Bakura sat at the kitchen island, legs hanging off the bar stool. “I want to get my memories back.” He started, watching as Ryou blinked slowly, before taking a long sip of his drink. “Listen…” Bakura leant forward on the bench, serious now. “We both know we haven’t gotten off to the best start.” 

Ryou made a scoffing noise, and put his cup down with a small clink. “You don’t say.” 

It was Bakura’s turn to frown. “Listen, I’m pretty fucking aware that I’ve done nothing to deserve your kindness.” He could feel that frustrating heaviness starting up in his chest. “But…”  _ How to say this.  _ “If you were to help me, it may also lead to finding a way to get rid of me - and wouldn’t that be better than having me sleeping on your couch?” 

Ryou tilted his head, something hesitant in his gaze - a flicker of worry that he hid by turning to pick his cup up again, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear. “I didn’t say I wanted you to leave.” He didn’t look at him as he said this, instead downing the rest of his drink and gazing down into the empty mug. There was a long silence, Bakura too surprised by his reply to find a way to respond. A car beeped outside. “You’re not him, are you?” Bakura felt his eyes widen at the question, Ryou’s pale blue gaze finally lifting to meet his. “...are you?” His voice was much softer now. 

“What do you-” Bakura’s throat tightened as he thought of the reflection he had seen the night before - the twisted version of the young man standing before him now. How wrong it had felt. He looked down at his hands, resting on the bench in front of him. 

“That’s what I thought,” Ryou murmured, and tapped his mug with his nails. “You say you need your memories, but you stared at my hand yesterday, at the scar.” Ryou’s voice had raised now, and when he looked up, his gaze had shifted to one more resolute. “And, you called me… Landlord.” He paused then, as if thinking on it, eyebrows knitting. 

“I did. I do. Remember. Some things.” Bakura replied gruffly, shifting uncomfortably. He didn’t like how vulnerable he felt under Ryou’s accusing gaze, and so he stood, turning and pacing to the couch, feeling restless. “To be honest, at first it was all I could remember,” he added dryly. He thought back to when he had woken up, confused and disoriented, trying to latch onto something to ground him. Hearing Ryou’s voice had bought back those memories. Of the ring. “But those memories are strange. Like a dream. But, those of my past…” He frowned, turning back to Ryou. “Of my life, those are clearer, but fewer. I want to remember more.”  

Ryou was watching him, gripping his mug still, but the hardened expression he’d been holding had softened. “I see.” He stepped over to his sink, placing the cup under the running tap for a few moments, obviously using the action to by himself time. “And how can I help you do that?” 

He was being cautious, but there was a hint of curiosity behind his words. Bakura felt a triumphant heat start up in his chest. “The items from Kul Elna. They helped me remember.” He paused, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice. “If you could bring me more…” 

“I can’t,” Ryou cut him off, and then spoke again, lower. “I can’t. I’m sorry, but I shouldn’t even have  _ those  _ here.” He motioned to the couch, where the coffee table was displaying the items Bakura had taken out. “I don’t even know how they got into my bag…” He trailed off, shaking his head and turning his attention back to the sink. “I…” 

He paused for a long moment, and Bakura felt himself fighting impatience, forcing himself not to say more. Ryou was the only one who could help him, and he had every reason not to. He bit the inside of his cheek, until finally, Ryou spoke again.

“You could come with me.” He seemed to be talking to himself more than anything, until he looked up to meet his gaze. “You could come with me. To the university. We have a collection… though.” He paused, and then pulled back from the sink, walking around the kitchen and pacing up to where Bakura stood. He was reminded again of how much taller Ryou was when he wasn’t slouching. “You have to promise to not to cause trouble for me.” 

“Define trouble.” 

“...That’s not what you’re meant to say,” Ryou replied, raising a hand to rub one of his eyes. 

“I’m joking, obviously,” Bakura grinned as Ryou watched him, unimpressed. “I can do that. I’ll be so inconspicuous you’ll forget i’m there. Thieves honour.” 

“Thieves honour?” Ryou repeated, eyebrows raising. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” 

“Well. I am a thief, you know. A tomb robber. I don’t have any other kind of honour.”  

“Is that right...” Ryou replied, before sighing. “I swear, if anything goes missing…” 

“Relax. I promise.” He really needed to stop teasing him. But he just made it too easy.  Ryou let out a sigh that showed in his whole body, his shoulders slumping. 

“Ok.” 

“So, when can we go?” Bakura asked, eager to get moving. It seemed like a long shot, but he nowhere else to turn. 

“Once I've slept another two hours.” Ryou replied, heading back to his room. Bakura pouted behind his back. “Besides, it doesn't open until eight. There's no rush.”

“Fine…”

Ryou turned back to him, Bakura surprised by the gentle expression on his face. “We'll get your memories back, don't worry.” So sincere. Bakura blinked, unsettled as always by Ryou’s kindness. 

“I'm not worried.”

Bakura watched the clock as each minute ticked over, his heart hammering restlessly as he waited. He wanted to leave. He wanted to do something, but he had to wait. Needing something to distract himself, he stalked around the apartment, finally making his way to the bathroom. 

He'd been avoiding going in there when the lights were on. Seeing himself unsettled him, and he frowned at his reflection as it came into view. His hair was an oily mess. And, smelling himself, he noted he probably should be wearing deodorant. 

He sighed. 

The shower shocked him with a blast of cold at first, but it soon warmed to an acceptable temperature. He washed his hair with the shampoo that was there, the type Ryou liked to use. It smelt of citrus. Like him. 

Tilting his head back to rinse, he stood there, letting the water flow over him, willing his nerves to calm. He needed to stay focused. He needed too-

**_“You're really just going to let him decide when you can leave?”_ **

The voice echoed around the bathroom, as if the speaker were really there, an edge of a threat to their tone. Bakura let out a shaky breath, his head jerking down. He refused to look at any of the reflective surfaces around him. 

**_“I can think of a few ways to persuade our landlord, can't you?”_ **

“Shut up.” He growled lowly, his voice shaking slightly. He didn't want to do that. He refused. 

He thought of the day before, waking on the couch to Ryou’s concerned face. Concern for him. 

His chest hurt.

**_“He'll just leave you in the end, like all the others.”_ **

“Shut  _ up.”  _ He stepped out of the shower, holding his head and leaning against the glass frame. Water sprayed at his feet. He breathed in deeply, several times, his body rigid. 

There was a knock on the door. 

“Bakura? Are you ok?”

It felt like being pulled from a dream, and he was suddenly hyper aware of how light-headed he felt. He turned off the shower, frowning at the wrinkled skin of his hands. 

“Fine. I'm fine.” He replied, loud enough to be heard. He could practically picture the hesitation on Ryou’s face before he spoke. 

“Well, we'll have to leave soon. I'll make you breakfast.”

“Sure.” 

He listened to the sound of his footsteps retreating, and turned his attention to finding a towel. The clothes he'd been wearing already smelt of body odor - and so he threw them into the laundry basket by the washing machine. 

Towel about his waist, he borrowed the deodorant Ryou had in his cabinet, and exited the bathroom with a sigh. It was much cooler in the living area. 

“Bakura...” Ryou’s reaction to his lack of clothes was everything he'd been hoping for, his tone tight and unimpressed. He made a point to walk around the couch with as much hip movement as possible. 

“Relax, I'm wearing a towel.”

“Yes, I can see  _ that.”  _

He grinned. He felt better already. 

Finding the bag with clothes in it, Bakura pulled out the items he’d chosen - a pair of loose, ankle length jeans, a tank top and a black zip up hooded jacket. It wasn’t what he would’ve picked for himself, but at the very least it was comfortable. He fished out another pair of briefs, too. 

Tossing off his towel, he -somewhat deliberately- made a show of getting changed, his back to Ryou. He could barely keep the smirk off his face as he heard him audibly dropping something into the sink with a curse. 

Distracted by his own theatrics, It wasn’t until he finished buttoning up his jeans that he glanced over at the clock by the television, eyes falling on the number there. Nearly an hour had passed since he’d left to have a shower.

He stared at it, a chill creeping up his spine. Perhaps he’d dozed off under the hot water. 

No. That wasn’t it. But giving any further thought made his skin start to crawl. 

The sound of Ryou behind him was a welcome distraction. 

“You can get changed in the bathroom, you know,” Ryou complained.  

“I know,” he answered as he turned to him, watching the flash of pink that came across Ryou’s cheeks as he laid to plates down on the table. Bakura’s eyes immediately honed in on them. Fluffy golden clouds where sitting on toast, with rows of oily, glistening strips if meat  beside them. He’d made bacon and eggs. 

His goal of taunting Ryou forgotten, he made his way to the table and sat, practically salivating at the sight of actual food. 

“You’re welcome.” Ryou sighed as he sat opposite, his reaction evidently enough to reflect how pleased he was. 

“I haven’t eaten anything that looked this good in a long time.” He remarked, watching as Ryou paused mid-bite, his fork hovering near his mouth. 

“Really?” 

“The egypt I lived in wasn’t exactly known for its food preparation…” He shrugged, as if it was nothing. When it was. It really was. He lifted a whole slice of bacon to his mouth and chewed it slowly. It was oily and salty and just the right amount of crunchy. The eggs were equally good. Bakura had nearly cleaned his plate when Ryou spoke up again. 

“What was it like?”    
  
“Hm?” Bakura glanced up at him, his cheeks full with toast and egg.

“What was your egypt like?” His head was tilted, his voice full of a wistful sort of curiosity. Bakura frowned, swallowing. 

“Ruled by people that thought they were gods, who would line their tombs with gold and living slaves when they died. Those that were suffering were left to starve or forced to turn to other means of survival - and prosecuted like monsters if they did.” He paused, finding that he was scowling. “It was unpleasant. I prefer it here.”

“I see,” Ryou responded softly, and looked back down at his half empty plate. He didn’t ask anymore questions for the remainder of the morning, and Bakura did his best to stay out of his way.

When it was time to leave, they went together in a relative silence, which was surprisingly lacking any awkwardness he might’ve expected. Ryou was busying himself on his phone, and he found his attention turning to the streets outside. 

It was different to the modern Japan he’d come to know through Ryou. Cairo was lined with buildings far older than most of the people that walked the streets, which in turn where less crowded than the bustling footpaths of domino city. Not to mention the distinct lack of large television screens stamped with the Kaiba Corp logo. Certainly something he could continue to do without.  

They soon rounded a corner, coming upon a large domed building that he quickly guessed was the university. Beside him, Ryou finally put his phone away, glancing down at him as he did. “I suppose this feels as foreign to you as it does to me?”   

“Obviously. I don’t even speak the language.”

“Does it make you sad?” Ryou wondered, glancing up at the domed building ahead of them.    
  
“What? That the depressing place I grew up in has been replaced with a marginally better society? I can’t say it does.” 

Ryou chuckled. “No. Well, I don’t supposed that would. I more meant that… well, nevermind -” Ryou shook his head as he glanced at him again, deciding that he didn’t feel like arguing with Bakura’s frown.

They made there way onto the campus, passing groups of students on their way to classes. Ryou led him up a flight of stairs. “So, where are the items?” Bakura wondered impatiently as Ryou paused in front of a door, fumbling with his keys. 

“Not here. I need to do some things before we can go.” 

“And how long will that take?” He wondered with a frown. 

Ryou hummed, glancing at him innocently. “As long as it needs to?” 

“Hmph.” 

He glanced about the office as they entered, Ryou carefully putting his bag down on his desk as he watched. He saw him hesitate as he glanced across the room to the other desk there. 

“Well, at the very least it's just the two of us…” Ryou murmured, and then turned back to the door. “Wait here, I'll get you a chair.” 

Now alone, Bakura to a moment to snoop about the room. There was an over crowded bookshelf filled with large textbooks on ancient egypt - ranging from anthropology to studies on pottery.

He turned his attention then to the other desk - Ryou’s own was tidied and neat, while this one looked like a tornado had passed through. Papers where piled on one another, an old mug of coffee sat to the side, unwashed. A textbook was open to a page showing an artist's rendition of a throne room. Bakura frowned. 

“Please don't touch anything.” Ryou’s voice sounded from behind him, and he turned to him nonchalantly, finding him standing there with a second chair in hand. 

“I'm not.”

“Hmm.” Ryou didn't look convinced, but he put the chair down and indicated for him to take it. “I just need to finish my report, and then I'll take you to the archives.”

Bakura simply grunted in reply, and took the seat as requested. Annoying Ryou right now would only serve to dissuade him from helping. So he sat in silence, watching Ryou’s hands fly across the keyboard as he typed, face set in concentration. Thankfully, it didn't take long until it seemed he was finished, pausing to reread his work. 

“So, what is it for?” Bakura wondered. 

“What? My report? It's…” Ryou paused, attention taken as he fixed something in the document. “It's a research report. I'm being paid by the Kaiba Corporation to give them updates on what we find at the dig site.” 

Bakura stared at him, tapping his fingers on the desk, Ryou not seeing the disgust that crossed his face. “Why is Kaiba if all people interested in Kul Elna?” 

Ryou looked up then, turning in his chair. “Right - I guess I never explained properly… Well. Kaiba kind of… became mildly obsessed when the Pharaoh returned to the spirit world.”

“Uh huh.” Bakura crossed his arms. 

“He dug up the items and tried to use the puzzle to bring him back.”

“Did it work?” Bakura wondered, tilting his head slightly in interest. Ryou squinted at him. 

“No, it didn't.” He paused, clearly considering his next words. “Mostly because he was... interrupted.”

Bakura got the sense there was more to the story, but Ryou didn’t make to continue, instead turning his attention back to his computer. He knew better than to press him, recognising that Ryou had grown uncomfortable. He was biting his bottom lip. 

Finally, he pushed back from his desk, apparently finished. 

“We can go now. But… let's get our story straight.” 

“What do you mean by that?” Bakura asked, intrigued by Ryou’s conspiratory tone.

“If anyone asks… you’re a student, and i’m helping to oversee one of your projects.” 

_ Good idea.  _ Bakura thought, not having thought on the likelihood of being questioned. “So, what do I call you? Professor?” He was smirking. Ryou pouted. 

“I’m not a teacher. I’m just a research assistant. You can just call me by my name. For once.” He made a point to stand then, clearly done with their back and forth. 

Bakura rolled his eyes, standing as well and following him out into the corridor. The building Ryou’s office was in was one of the older ones on campus, with a claustrophobic design, lacking even escalators - so when they exited that building and entered the next, the difference was immediate. More open, with various sitting areas for students waiting for their classes, large glass panels on the roof of the atrium that let in the sun.  

They headed for the elevator, riding it up to the third floor, Bakura tapping his foot impatiently. His past was so close - his chance to remember more about himself. His anxiety was growing. 

He followed right beside Ryou as they exited, running right into him when he stopped abruptly. 

“Wait,” his voice was so soft that Bakura barely heard him, with a worried edge to it. Bakura frowned, shifting to peer around him and down the corridor they were standing in. Ahead was a group of uniformed workers, lifting boxes onto trolleys. He glanced up at Ryou. 

“What?” 

“They’re… from the museum.” 

“And why does that matter?” 

“Well-” before he could explain, Bakura’s attention was torn back to the goings on in front of them, a voice piercing the air with a familiar, annoying twang. Walking out of the room ahead, ash blonde hair framing his pretty face, was Malik Ishtar. 

An unpleasant, involuntary feeling started in his chest. 

“ _ Ryou -”  _ Bakura started in warning, but was given no chance to continue as Malik’s keen violet gaze locked onto them. He watched, the uncomfortable feeling growing as the handsome egyptian excused himself and shifted past the moving team to reach them. He was dressed in dark, fitted pants, a loose tank top that he’d tucked in at the front - and wore a long, khaki jacket over the top. He beamed happily when he reached them, gaze fixed on Ryou, who Bakura only then glanced up at. 

He looked like a damn school girl. His cheeks had taken on an obvious tint of pink, and the soft smile on his face was nothing less than enamoured. Bakura felt like he was being kicked repeatedly in the stomach when Ryou spoke in greeting. “Malik. I didn’t know you were here today…” He trailed off, as if suddenly lacking the ability to speak.

“The university asked us to collect a few items for preservation, so I’m helping to oversee the moving,” The other replied, returning Ryou’s smile with one of his dimpled grins. It was everything Bakura could do to keep is expression neutral, as much as he wanted to cut in and end the whole ridiculous exchange. “Who's your… friend?” Malik continued, tilting his head to glance at him, his golden earrings swaying with the movement. Ryou practically jumped beside him, clearly having forgotten he was there. 

“Oh - this is -”    
  
“He was just going to show me some items,” Bakura interjected with a smile, hating every second of it. Malik seemed to relax upon hearing this. 

  
“Ah, you’re a student? Sorry for the hold up. We’ll be finished soon.” Malik smiled in a friendly way, though it was nothing like the warm look he then gave to Ryou. “I hope we aren’t moving anything you were going to look at.”   
  
“Ah - no. It’s actually the items from the dig site in Kul Elna…” Ryou gave an apologetic smile, and Bakura watched with interest as Malik’s warm gaze faltered. “I figure you still haven’t had any luck with that?”    
  
“Kaiba’s been aggressively refusing any of our requests to so much as have our people  _ look  _ at them.” Malik’s tone had lowered to one Bakura knew well, full of a barely concealed venom. Ryou sighed. 

“I know. I did ask him if he’d let me share my reports with you. You can… imagine the response.” 

Malik’s expression darkened further. “As my sister likes to say, there’s little we can do if Seto Kaiba has his mind set on something.”  He took a breath as he obviously held back whatever more colourful words he had to say about the billionaire. “Anyway, let's not talk about that egomaniac, thinking about him gives me a headache.” 

Ryou laughed. “That’s fine by me.” 

_ And me.  _ Bakura thought bitterly, growing impatient with the delay - due to Malik, of all people. His bitterness only grew when Malik spoke again, his expression again one of intent, eyes unwaveringly on Ryou.   

“So-, I don’t suppose you’re going to be coming past the museum anytime soon? That coffee is still on offer, you know.” He gave one of his overly handsome smiles. 

_ You’ve got to be kidding me.  _ Bakura glanced at Ryou. He was tugging nervously at the hem of his jacket. 

“Ah. Right. I know, I said I would last time, didn’t I?”  

“Well, you don’t need to worry. Just whenever you’re free.” 

“I’ll let you know.” Ryou was smiling again. So was Malik. Bakura wanted to hit something.    
  
“Ryou,” his named slipped out of his mouth with a surprisingly sincere tone, considering he was internally aflame. Ryou’s blue gaze turned to him in surprise. “Not to interrupt,”  _ oh but that’s definitely my intent, “ _ but it looks like they’re finished.” He nodded to the scene behind them, where the workers where now carefully fixing the boxes onto the trolleys with cable. Malik turned in surprise. 

“Ah, I guess that’s my queue,” he remarked, facing away from them. As he turned back, he paused, his gaze locking on Bakura’s own. It was a dangerous look - not because Malik seemed aggressive, but because he was clearly studying him with curiosity. With interest. Bakura simply raised his eyebrows innocently.

“I might see you at the museum, then,” Ryou interrupted, successfully getting Malik’s attention. Bakura wasn’t sure if he’d said it because he’d noticed what was happening, or because he was taken in by Malik’s obvious advances - and while he’d prefer one answer to the other, it was a relief all the same.

Malik smiled, taking much too long to consider Ryou before saying, “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

_ You idiot.  _ Bakura thought, sick to his stomach as Malik pulled back and gave a little wave, before leaving to go back to doing whatever his job was. Beside him, Ryou let out an audible breath. 

“Sorry. I didn’t think -” He sounded flustered, Bakura shook his head.

“Don’t worry.” He was aware of Malik still nearby, throwing glances their way. “Where are the archives?” 

“Right.” Ryou replied, still grounding himself. “Follow me.” 

To his relief, Malik didn’t try to speak to them again as they passed by, instead throwing Ryou a smile and leveling him with the same curious gaze as earlier. Bakura doubted he would figure out who he was - but decided it would be best to avoid  _ that  _ confrontation if possible.  

At least for now. 

The archives where through a set of double doors, the same Malik had come from earlier. Past them, the room opened out into what could be comparable to a Library - with shelves of items and storage, and then past that a series of workstations. Only, unlike a library, the entrance was barred with a security check. 

Upon seeing Ryou, the guard addressed him in english. “ID?” 

“Yes, here.” Ryou pulled the card out from a lanyard he’d been wearing around his neck, hidden by his sweater. The guard glanced at it, and then nodded. 

“And what is he, a student?” 

“Yes, i’m overseeing his work.” 

“Alright,” the guard turned to Bakura then, taking a moment to look him over and then frowning. “Make sure he doesn’t break anything.” 

Bakura scowled. Ryou smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure of it.”

He grumbled under his breath as he went passed the metal detector, following Ryou past the rows of shelves. Once they were out of earshot, he turned to him with a frown, stopping near one of the workstations. “‘ _ You’ll make sure of it? _ ’”  

Ryou chuckled. “Well, I don’t think he would have believed me if i’d tried to take your side. Anyway, isn’t that what i’m here for? To keep you out of trouble?” He said it lightly, but Bakura frowned. 

“If you’re so worried about  _ trouble  _ then what the hell are you doing flirting with Malik, of all people?” It was out of his mouth before he could stop himself. 

“Wh - what?” Ryou’s eyes widened. “I - that has nothing to do with this.” He stared him down for a moment, and Bakura watched as he went from a frown to a worried pout. “And not that it’s any of your business, but we’re just… we’re friends.” 

_ A friend that you would like to sleep with.  _ Bakura thought venomously, and then stopped himself. He was getting worked up. He shouldn’t even care. It shouldn’t  _ matter.  _ He took several breaths, and stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, frustrated. 

Ryou just looked at him, clearly not sure what to say to say, his expression a mixture of confusion and worry, and just when Bakura thought he was going to drop it, he spoke again in that annoyingly soft voice of his. “You know. He told me that. That the two of you worked together during battle ci-” 

“Ryou.” He met his eye, trying not to let the flurry of emotions in his chest show on his face. He didn’t want to talk about Malik. “Where are the items?” 

He could see Ryou struggling not to say more, the way he teetered on the edge of speaking. He held his gaze. 

“I… ok. They’re over here.” Ryou took a deep breath as he spoke, then turned to walk around one of the shelves. Bakura followed, slowly as he realised there was another door there, stamped with the Kaiba Corp logo. Ryou paused to rummage through his bag, taking out a key. “As you may have gathered from my conversation with -” He turned the key “-with Malik - only myself and other designated staff our allowed to access these.” 

“Humph. Why the fuck is Kaiba so obsessed with the Pharaoh, anyway?” Bakura growled, only realising his mistake when Ryou turned to him, eyebrows raised. 

“Why are  _ you?”  _

He made an annoyed noise, looking away. “That’s an entirely different conversation. I want - wanted to kill him.” He caught himself mid sentence, and glowered back up at Ryou, who was still hesitating in the doorway. “Kaiba wants to bring him back. For what? To play a card game with him?” 

“I think that is actually the reason.” Ryou replied with an amused smile, before continuing into the next room, leaving Bakura to reassess just how little he respected the billionaire. Not that he should be surprised. Leave it to a wealthy brat to think he  _ owned  _ Kul Elna. It was enough to make him feel sick. 

“The privileged never change,” he muttered under his breath, glancing around the new room as he entered. It was bigger than the last, and almost sterile in design - feeling more like a hospital room than a historical archive. Everything was locked behind cases, displayed like jewelry would be in a store. Bakura’s frown deepened. “So, this is where my knife will end up?” 

“Most likely,” Ryou replied, not meeting his eye. “It doesn’t sit well with me either, but at least it’ll be preserved.” He walked up to the nearest case as he spoke, unlocking it with the same key. “Some of these were found during the dig 6 years ago. I… actually haven’t had a chance to look at them until now.” 

Bakura came up behind him, peering at the shelves. Now  _ this  _ was much more interesting. There was jewelry, and carved wooden items, even what looked like a time worn game of  _ senet.  _ He glanced up at Ryou, finding him equally transfixed on the ancient discoveries. “I figured you would have jumped at the chance to see these.” 

Ryou blinked, glancing at him. “I did. Well, I wanted too - but these were only returned here recently. They’d been in a private research facility until a few weeks ago.” 

“Interesting.” Bakura remarked, distracted again. One object in particular had caught his eye. It was gold and regal in design - a simple bangle. It was almost like it was calling to him, pulling him forward. He didn’t even notice he’d taken his hand from his pocket until it was in front of him. Hovering inches from the item. 

To his surprise, Ryou’s hand was right beside his. 

They both pulled back at the same time, turning to each other in unison. There was a sudden, static like energy in the air, one that Bakura couldn’t explain. He could see that Ryou was breathing faster. 

“Do you… feel that?” Ryou asked, eyes wide.

“Yes.” Bakura replied softly, and they both turned back to the cabinet, an unspoken hesitance in both of them. “You said you were taken into a vision when you touched the knife.”    
  


“I - I think so.” Ryou replied, uncertain. “Usually I have to be sleep.” 

“Well, judging from our combined reactions, I get the feeling you won’t be needing a pillow this time.” Bakura grinned, excited, and pulled Ryou’s arm closer to his. He heard a noise of protest, but ignored it. “Let’s take it at the same time.” 

“Ok,” Ryou replied, right near his ear. He sounded out of breath. 

“Three -” His fingers twitched, “-two-” Ryou’s body tensed beside him, “-one-” neither of them where breathing. And then, everything was black. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated with art I drew for this chapter! Find me on tunglr and twt as @shakyypen

Ryou came too with a familiar sensation. His limbs didn’t quite feel like his own, his head swimming as he made sense of up and down. He was having another dream.

He sat up slowly, his sight blurred as he tried to make sense of his new surroundings. It felt like he’d moved very fast - fallen, perhaps. He was in a long corridor, the walls made of stone, air heavy with dust, unable to see past the darkness at the end. The only light was coming from a fire lit torch above him. If Ryou didn’t know any better, he’d guess he was…

In a tomb.

He stood up, immediately reaching for the torch, his hands feeling the heat of the flame as he grasped it, taking it from its metal holding.

He had been in the archives with Bakura. There had been an item - a bangle? When they had touched it -

Ryou glanced down at his hand, remembering how the other had taken it in his. If he was here, then where was Bakura?

He began to make his way down the long passageway, hyper-aware of every sound. He hadn’t had any more odd dreams since the night Bakura appeared, and had no further recollections of mysterious voices speaking to him. But that didn’t mean he was safe.

Holding the light ahead of him, he stepped carefully, knowing from his visits to ruins with his father that old tombs where often heavily boobytrapped.

Eventually, the passage opened out, and he walked forward into a small rectangular chamber, presented with a choice. On either side of him where two branching paths. Biting his lip, he looked about him for any hints on where to turn - but found only bare walls and sandy corners.

“Eenie, meenie, miney, mo…?” He wondered aloud, turning his torch in the direction of each. He had half a mind to call out, but something in the atmosphere stopped him. He felt tense, the hairs at the back of his neck standing up. The longer he stood there, the more he felt it growing. Ryou decided he didn’t want to stay still any longer.

“Bakura, I swear…” He muttered, choosing the left path, his feet moving faster than before. Ryou had no way to protect himself if he came across anything actually dangerous, still dressed in his jeans and sweater - and disliked the growing unease in his stomach.

The new corridor looked the same as the last, though there were more torches now. All of them, he noted, were lit. As if someone had been through before him. He scanned the ground for footprints, but the sand scattered across the stone seemed to shift as he watched, a hidden breeze hiding any sign of a previous visitor.

Swallowing, Ryou continued on.

Soon, he found himself in another chamber. He’d been expecting traps - but not ones so obvious. The floor disappeared and opened out into a pit, the continuation of the passage opposite. The only option he had to continue on was a thin, stone bridge that spanned it.  

Running his eyes across it, he looked upwards, spotting the glint of metal hidden above him in the dark.

There had to be a trigger for the blades.

Chewing on the inside of his mouth, Ryou tried to remember what he knew of tomb design - and traps in general, but went blank. He’d never been an expert in that regard - and wished he’d asked Malik more about the subject during their past meetings. Usually, their discussions would veer towards more personal subjects; Like their past. Or Malik's motorbikes.

He really needed not to be distracted right now.

Breathing deep, he cast the light on bridge ahead of him, squinting at the small stone slabs it was built from, eyeing the ridges between each one. An idea struck him.

Turning back to where he’d come from, Ryou bent down and took a fist full of sand, making his way back to the edge. He let the golden dust fall onto the pass, shifting against the rock and trickling down the sides. He squinted, and grinned. Not only was it falling off the sides, but between the stone, to. Where the button was indented.

“Gotcha,” Ryou smiled, and collected more sand in his hands, holding the torch between his teeth. He made his way across like that, dodging the stone triggers. It was slow, but he didn’t get decapitated. He wondered what Bakura would have thought of his theatrics.

_Where the hell is he, anyway_? Ryou glanced back to where he’d come from, and frowned. In the distance, he could see the torches had gone out.

Heart beating faster, he remembered why he’d been in a hurry in the first place, his skin prickling again. He needed to move.

Practically jogging now, his next roadblock came up quickly.

Rather than a chamber, he was met with a wall, though he knew there was more to it than that. Upon its surface was the image of a monster - a _duel monster,_ though not one that he recognised. It looked grotesque, with horns, jagged teeth and scales. A summoning tablet.    
  
He’d heard of these. Seen pictures of them, even. Knew of what Malik had told him. Of how spirits used to be summoned in ancient egypt. Of shadow games.

With no one to summon it, it couldn’t be dangerous, could it? Curious, Ryou took half a step forward, and almost jumped out of his skin when he was suddenly yanked backwards, a hand running about his chest.

“That would be idiotic,” murmured an amused voice in his ear, making him yelp. He pulled away, spinning around and nearly dropping his torch. Standing there, his smirk illuminated by the fire light, was Bakura.

Though he looked much different to how he’d left the archive room. His clothes had completely changed. Gone were his jeans and jacket - instead, his body was framed by a flowing, crimson robe, a simple cotton top and a cotton skirt - a shendyt - that’s length made it hard for Ryou’s eyes to pull away.

He sucked in a deep breath, hating how relieved he was to see him.

“You’ve been following me, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Bakura replied simply, stepping past him and glancing at the tablet, before turning back to him with a grin. “I was interested in seeing what you’d do. I admit, you’re more ballsy than I expected.”

Ryou frowned. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”

“Take it as you wish,” the other replied, his voice somehow different to what Ryou had become accustomed to. He sounded excited. Happy, even.

_He's in his element._ Ryou thought, considering the way Bakura's eyes seemed to light up as he turned to the stone tablet, the grin on his face genuine.

“How did you even sneak up on me?” Ryou wondered, the initial shock of being startled wearing off. “I thought I felt… Something following me. But I didn't see anything.”

Bakura hummed, tilting his head. “You could sense me? That's fairly impressive.” He actually seemed sincere. “If you'd like to know how, step back and watch.”

Ryou blinked slowly, but did as he was told, curious as to what would happen next. He knew so little about Bakura, seeing him like this - looking much like the thief he'd claimed to be that morning - was too intriguing to resist.

For a moment, the other just centred his gaze on the tablet, expression intense. Ryou half expected it to explode, or perhaps light up with magic.

So when it was Bakura that was suddenly glowing, he took another step back.

It appeared in a flash of light, a light that seemed to emanate from Bakura himself. A thick, silver tail coiled around his frame, and behind him, until the tail met the body of a humanoid form. Ryou could feel his heart rise to his throat, eyes wide.

“Diabound, destroy this useless slab,” Bakura commanded, almost lazily, cockiness practically dripping off his words. The monster moved instantly, flying at the tablet and then - entering it. Ryou watched with amazement as the stone trembled, a momentary flash of the monster that it housed flickering before it, before cracks began to permeate the surface. Ryou barely had time to raise his arms when it suddenly exploded, sending sand and small rocks flying in every direction.

Bakura was chuckling. “Humph. Some security.”

The dust cleared as Ryou watched, finding his breath caught. The monster Bakura had summoned was returning to its master. What he’d thought was a tail in fact ended in the head of a snake - red eyes glinting in the fire light. The large, humanoid form it was bound to flew forward, a pair of angelic wings on it’s back.

Ryou stepped forward. “What _is_ this?” He asked Bakura, who turned to him, expression still smug, the white monster hovering close behind him.

“Diabound. My Ka.”

_Ka?!_ He’d heard that term before. When Malik had tried to explain the ancient duels to him. He hadn’t fully understood then, and still wasn’t sure he did, but… “Isn’t that. Isn’t that… some kind of monster that reflects your soul?”

Bakura stared at him for a long moment, before looking away with a roll of his eyes. “So. Malik has been telling you some things,” he said, as if he’d read his mind. “Although even as a tombkeeper, his knowledge is patchy,” he went on, inspecting his nails - as if Malik’s opinion it meant little to him.

“Well, so tell me then, what is a Ka?” Ryou prompted, trying not to sound impatient - and failing. Bakura grinned.  

“It’s a spirit monster that you summon from your soul.” He stepped closer to him, and in turn, Diabound hovered closer as well. Ryou didn’t know which one to watch. “The stronger your soul, the stronger the Ka, the more powerful you are.” Suddenly, Bakura’s hand had slid onto his shoulder, and he was stepping around him, putting Ryou between the thief and his summoning. “Even you’d have one. And given you were the inheritor of the ring, a strong one, too.”

“I-is that right…?” Ryou stuttered, finding the air growing thicker. Up until then - Bakura had done little more than tease him, and avoided doing anything to directly address their previous... partnership. He’d even stopped calling him _landlord._ Somehow, though, Ryou didn’t think he was trying to torment him - in fact, if anything, he’d think he was complimenting him again. “I’m not sure I’d say I believe that.” He admitted wearily, trying not to let his growing heart rate reflect in his voice.   

“You really need to give yourself more credit,” Bakura hummed beside him, having stepped around so silently that Ryou nearly jumped again. He glanced at him - at his almond skin, his grey-violet eyes that reflected maroon from the fire. Ryou forced himself to look away, drawing his attention to Diabound instead, which watched silently.  

“So. Well. I’m supposing it isn’t dangerous?” He wondered, changing the subject, his eyes lifting to fully take in the immensity of the creature. Beside him, he could practically feel Bakura’s smirk.

“Not unless I want it to be.”

Ryou hummed, having anticipated such an answer, and stepped closer to where Bakura’s ka sat upon it’s coils, the snake’s head within arm’s reach. Leaning forward to inspect it, he wondered if it was aware of him, or if it could only do as it’s master commanded. To his surprise, the snake followed him with a swivel of it’s head.

It was kind of cute.

“...can I pet it?” Ryou wondered, testing his luck.  
  
“Wh- no!” Bakura spluttered behind him, and Ryou found he wasn’t able to hide the smile on his face.

“I thought you said it wasn’t dangerous.”

“He’s _not._ ” Bakura insisted as he strode up beside him, Diabound moving away with a swish of its tail. “Why would you even want to?”

“I like snakes.” Ryou replied simply. Which was the truth. He did like snakes. Not that it mattered, Bakura was staring at him with an expression he couldn’t read, and he half expected him to say something snide. Instead, he surprised him.   

“Diabound isn’t a pet.”   

Ryou stared back at him, blinking in surprise. For a moment, an emotion had flickered across Bakura’s face that he would almost say was -

\- sadness.

Before Ryou had a chance to apologise, Bakura seemed to get ahold of himself, and turned back to where the stone tablet had been destroyed. “Let’s go. We don’t know how time moves here compared to the real world. Wouldn’t want that guard to find us collapsed in the archives.”    

“...right.” Ryou replied after a pause, following the red trail of Bakura’s cloak as they began to head down the dark corridor, his torch held forward.

They walked in silence at first, Ryou feeling awkward for enlisting such a response from Bakura, eyes shifting from the back of the thief to the Ka that hovered beside him, a silent guardian.

“You said you were a tomb robber, correct? Which, i’m guessing means this is a tomb?”

Bakura glanced at him from the corner of his eye, before turning his gaze back to the path ahead, his long, shaggy hair obscuring his expression. “That’s right.”

“Do you… remember it?” It seemed like a silly question, as Ryou was fairly certain that whatever the dream was, it was some sort of memory in itself. But if Bakura did know something of what was to come, it might be able to help them.

“I have vague memories of similar places, but nothing helpful,” he admitted. Ryou could hear the frustration in his voice.

“All of your memories are like that, yes?”

There was a pause before Bakura responded, the sound of their footsteps echoing down the corridor, the fire from the torch burning with a near inaudible crackling. “Some things are clear.”

Ryou glanced at him then, and found that he was looking back, the two of them holding eye contact for a moment. Ryou looked away with a sigh. “You remember the ring.”

“Yes. Some of it is very clear - and at the same time more obscure than my past.”

_That’s odd,_ Ryou wondered, glancing at him again. “It’s strange you don’t remember it all, isn’t it?”

Bakura let out a harsh laugh, “The circumstances of my existence in the Millenium Ring isn’t easily explained. Much like my current existence.”

“What do you remember of... of me?”

As he’d suspected, Bakura’s pace seemed to quicken, as if he were trying to out run his questions. Unfortunately for him, he had longer legs, and easily kept up, eyes on Bakura’s profile.  
  
“I know you’ve been avoiding the subject. You can’t just ignore it.”

“Why, of all places, are you choosing to bring this up while we’re in the process of uncovering my memories?”

“I’m just following the course of the conversation.”

Bakura growled, like a cornered cat, and suddenly stopped, turning to him with a dangerous expression, jaw set. “I remember you being a child, and watching you write letters to your dead sister. I remember tormenting the teacher that threatened you, and all the other bullies in your life, for that matter. I remember the game with your friends - how you got the scar on your hand. I remember stabbing your arm to help that tomb keeper in his plan to murder Yugi Muto.”

He took a step forward, and Ryou took a step back, letting out a shaky breath. Bakura’s lip twitched.  
  
“Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Ryou looked away, cheeks flushed with emotion. “It’s… what I expected.” His eyes were trained on the ground, unable to bring himself to look at the other. What _had_ he wanted to hear?

It felt like an eternity passed.

“...I don’t understand you.” The words sliced through the air, and Ryou looked up with a start. Bakura was staring at him, expression pained. He was searching his face in confusion.

_“I don’t understand!”_

For a moment, Ryou wasn’t in the vision of the tomb, he wasn’t even with Bakura.

_Malik’s hands where in fists. He’d called him to domino museum, visiting on behalf of his sister. Ryou hadn’t known what to expect -_

Bakura’s voice raised, cutting through the memory.

“Why don’t you _hate me?_ ” His words cracked, and for one unbelievable second, Ryou thought he’d cry. But - of course, it was Bakura, and instead he stepped forward, Ryou backing up against the wall as he grabbed the front of his sweater. He felt something hot and painful start up in his chest.

“I _did_ hate you.” He replied, voice trembling. Bakura was staring at him, eyes sharp and expectant. “Maybe I still do! I don’t know! Is that what you want me to say?!” He bought his hands up to were Bakura held him, trying to pull him off, but his grip held fast.

“Then why the fuck are you helping me?”

“Because I want to understand _why!”_ Ryou’s yell echoed off the walls, and he could feel as something inside him broke, stabbing through his chest, as if the ring were still there, cutting into his skin. “That maybe, if I help you, I can finally move on from it, too!” They stared at each other, Ryou’s face pink, close to tears, Bakura’s comparably pale, and looking like he’d just been slapped.

He let him go, and Ryou glared at him, voice strained to a whisper - “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Having his words echoed back at him made Bakura’s hardened expression falter, his eyes flickering painfully. “I don’t know.” He turned from him, clearly distressed. Near to them, Diabound seemed to shift, too, reflecting its owner's emotions. Ryou swallowed.

The silence between them began to stretch on.

“Lets just - lets just keep going.” He said shakily, Bakura's head tilting towards him in response.

“Don't you want an apology? To hear how much I regret it?” His voice was harsh and strained. Ryou sighed, feeling exhausted.

“I'd prefer if you told me once you mean it.”

A bark of laughter escaped the other, and he turned back to him, finally, looking him up and down as if he were seeing him for the first time. “Fine.”

Ryou felt the tension release from his shoulders, letting out a breath. Bakura seemed to straighten up too, expression switching back to his usual resting scowl.

“Let's go, then.”

Ryou continued to follow, though at a distance. His mind started wandering again, his thoughts going to Malik.

He remembered that night well - It couldn't have been more than a few months after the event with Diva. He recalled how nervous Malik had been, the way he had looked at him then, like he was seeing a ghost.

_He was seeing you, wasn't he?_ Ryou wondered, glancing at the man walking beside him, head held up high. They were similar. The tomb keeper and the tomb robber.

“Give me the light,” Bakura said suddenly, distracting him. He had stopped beside another, unlit torch. “It'll go out soon, I doubt you want to experience a pitch black tomb.”

“I have, once.” Ryou interjected, but gave it to him all the same, watching as he lit the new torch and switched them for each other, handing him the new one. Ryou only noticed then how dim the previous had become in comparison.

“An excursion with your father?”

Ryou found himself caught for a moment, surprised by the response, Bakura not looking at him as they made to continue. “That's right.” Ryou pointed the light down the passageway. “Though. This one seems much larger…”

“We'll be there soon.”

“How can you tell?”

Bakura shifted beside him, crossing his arms in thought. “I'm not sure, but some part of me knew the answer.”

He was right. A minute later, they had come to another chamber. The ceiling heightened, and the corridor split into three directions. He had no tricks to solve it this time.

There was nothing else for it. Ryou turned to Bakura. “Time to show off your thief skills, then.” The other glanced back at him with a grin, the same smug expression from earlier starting on his face as he spoke.

“Diabound.” Ryou had nearly forgotten the Ka was there, jumping a bit as it flew between them. “Find the way.”

The monster rushed ahead, promptly disappearing into the wall. Ryou blinked in surprise. The Ka’s abilities, he noted, were awfully attuned to what a thief might need to be successful. Destroying summoning tablets, entering walls - perhaps even cloaking its owner from sight.

He glanced at Bakura, watching the look of concentration on his face, and wondered if he would still be able to summon it in the present day. If he could, it would mean other’s could - a magic that had been forgotten to the past.

Then Bakura was moving, giving no warning as he started forward with a swish of his cloak, a slight stagger in his step as he turned down the left corridor. Ryou followed with a frown, confused by the sudden silence.

“Are you ok?”

Bakura halted, as if he’d forgotten he was there, and turned back, eyebrows knitted together as he studied him. “I -” His eyes fluttered, like he was waking up, “ -summoning Diabound isn’t without drawbacks, it requires a lot of energy and concentration. I just... need to rest before I try again.”

“I see.” Ryou replied, still confused, but not having a chance to ask more before Bakura started down the corridor again.

After at least half an hour of weaving through intersecting corridors, Ryou beginning to wonder if Bakura actually knew where he was going, they came to an exit - a door. It was engraved with hieroglyphs, some of which Ryou recognised, others which he’d never seen before. The ones that did know started to give him some idea of who was buried there - a member of the royal family.

“We made it,” Ryou said, the relief in his voice obvious as Bakura went up to the door, pushing it open with little give - making no reply. He’d been mostly silent since they’d entered the passage, and now Ryou wondered if he was actively ignoring him, given that they were near the end of the memory.  

Bakura turned back, glancing over his shoulder - though not at Ryou. It was like he was reacting to a sound further off.

Ryou frowned.

“Bakura?”

Again no reply, Bakura turning to squeeze through the opening he’d made. Seeing no other option, Ryou followed, the disquiet in his stomach growing as the silence stretched on. The next area was wider - much wider. Pillars rose on either side of them, and his torch barely made a dent in the darkness. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears as he struggled to keep up with the hurried strides of the other - amazed by how silent Bakura was on his feet.

“Bakura, god damn it, can you hear me?” Ryou hissed, waving an arm in front of him. He didn’t even blink.

_What the hell is happening?_ Ryou wondered, growing panicked. _You saved me earlier._ He thought, still struggling to keep up as he followed, watching as Bakura pulled up his hood, and - drew a pair of blades from his hip.

Ok. Those definitely hadn’t been there earlier.

A yell broke the silence.

“That’s him!”

Ryou spun around. Coming from the door they had just slipped past was a group of men - soldiers. Some held spears, others swords or torches, their outfits Ryou recognised from textbooks. Royal guards.

“Halt! In the name of the pharao-” Before they could finish, the ringing sound of laughter started beside him, and a chill swept up his spine.

It was Bakura, his back facing the men that were pursuing him, head bowed as he cackled maniacally. “Ah, so you finally found me! And here I was thinking I’d get through without any amusement!” And before Ryou could do anything, he had spun around, pointing a sword at the nearest soldier, face twisted with a venomous smirk. “Well!? Which of you thinks they can defeat the Thief King?”

Ryou’s eyes widened. They weren’t speaking English. Or even Japanese, for that matter - but, unlike his previous dream, he could comprehend every word.

“You will pay for insulting the gods with your presence!” The soldiers began to advance.

“Bakura!” He yelled as loudly as he could, trying to grab his shoulder. But it was as if a hidden barrier surrounded him, and Ryou failed to grasp him - horror starting to set in as a cry ran out behind them. It was Diabound - one of the men was being thrown against a pillar, overpowered by the great Ka. “ _Stop!”_

His voice cracked desperately, but it made no difference. Bakura lept for the leader while his guard was down - still distracted by the attack - stabbing him through the chest with his blades. “Send Osiris my regards!”  

Ryou couldn’t look away. He realised, then, that he was no longer a participant, but a viewer. Watching the past play out before him in a sickening slow motion.

It couldn’t be changed, because it had already happened.

_I don’t want to see this._ He thought, choking on bile as blood splattered the floor, Bakura setting his Ka on another.

_I don’t want to-_

 

* * *

 

Ryou woke with a gasp, the bright light of the archive room making his eyes water. He was on the floor, his hip and shoulders aching painfully as he sat up where he’d fallen - the cabinet still open above him. Looking about, he found Bakura lying to his right, unconscious, the bangle in his hand.

Immediately, his mind went to what he’d just bore witness too. He didn’t like violence. Unless it was staged in a game of duel monsters or monster world, he struggled to stomach it. He thought of the way the soldier had looked, eyes wide when the swords stabbed between his ribs -

Ryou took a deep breath.

He was foolish, he should’ve expected that the life of the _spirit of the millenium ring_ would be a violent one - dwelling on it wasn’t going to be helpful, and trying to make sense of what had happened could come after he dealt with the unconscious man beside him.

Leaning over him, Ryou shook slightly at his shoulders, frowning. His forehead was beaded with sweat, eyebrows pulled together. It was like he was having a nightmare. Only, no matter how much Ryou nudged him, he didn’t wake. “Bakura!” He tried calling, feeling helpless when all he achieved was making himself recall how futile that had been in the memory.

He needed to get him out of there.

Tugging the bangle out of his hand, Ryou stood, carefully sliding it back into it’s spot on the shelf and promptly locking the case. He looked back down, worry growing. Taking the item away had done nothing to wake him.

“How am I meant to explain this,” Ryou wondered aloud, despairing, and pulled out his phone to check the time. They’d been unconscious for an hour - and not only that, but Malik had called him. He tried to ignore that for now. “Ok… ok.”

First he tried lifting him, picking Bakura up from under his arms. He was heavier than he’d anticipated. “How… did Honda… carry me -” Ryou grunting, dropping him back down as gently as he could. He had a new found respect for the many times his friends had made sure to bring his unconscious body back to safety.

Ok. New plan. He’d just ask the security guard for help. He’d tell them that the student had collapsed and that - No. That wouldn’t work. They would involve the faculty, and it’d quickly become obvious that Bakura wasn't a student. One Ryou has bought into a restricted area without permission.  

What should he do, then?

Biting his lip, Ryou stepped over him, heading for the door. He could just wait there for him to wake up. What else could he do?

Hoping that no one else had entered the archive room during his time spent in the memory, Ryou pushed the door open as quietly as possible, peeking his head around the frame.

Immediately, his gaze fell down the row of shelves, heart rising to his throat. Standing in the aisle, looking down at his phone with worry, was Malik.

Well. It wasn’t like Ryou should be surprised by anything at that point. He thought back to the missed call he’d seen on his phone, wondering just how long the other had been waiting there, and took a deep breath.

“Malik?” The handsome Egyptian looked up with a start, his eyes finding him with widened relief. Ryou stepped out from behind the door.

Before he could say anything, Malik had strode over to him, and Ryou had to try hard not to stare as he usually did when he was close to him - especially not at the way his bright violet eyes contrasted with the warm bronze of his skin - or how his gold adorned neck and ears gave him an air of regality.

Malik sighed. “I _knew_ you were here, that stupid guard refused to open the door for me when you didn’t answer!” His tone was tinted with a hint of frustration, his lips pulled into a pout as he threw a look over his shoulder to where Ryou knew the security desk was. “I was getting worried.” He added, gaze turning back to him, reflecting as much as he frowned.

Ryou felt his stomach drop. “I’m sorry. I was - distracted. I didn’t hear your call - and you know Kaiba sound proofs his rooms,” Ryou lied, trying his best not to sound on edge - and failing. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

Malik studied him for a second, concern still etched on his face. “I - well,” another sigh, this time softer, “I came to see you, actually. What else?” Ryou could feel his cheeks heating. Malik brushed a lock of his long, ash blonde hair back. “I had finished overseeing the moving, and I was free for the afternoon, so.” He smiled, just slightly, but enough to push the dimples up on his cheeks. “I missed you while you were away at the dig.”

Despite his predicament, Ryou felt himself smiling, too. “I missed you as well. The reception is terrible out there.”

“Oh, I know.” Malik laughed in a cynical, but warm way, though his gaze soon became more serious. “That aside, are you ok? You look even paler than usual.”  

“Well…” Ryou started, averting his gaze. He didn’t want to lie to Malik. But he also had a bad feeling about telling him who Bakura really was. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust him - on the contrary, he was sure he was the only one who would actually be able to help, to understand. But. He looked back up, swallowing, “I have a problem.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take bets on how long it's going to take for Malik to figure out who Bakura is ;)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Angstshipping blasts into the fic at the speed of light.

“You know, this wasn’t how I imagined things would go when I finally got into this stupid room,” Malik joked, trying to lighten the mood. Ryou was worrying his lip in a way that made him think of a small, fluffy animal - the thick white hair framed his face only adding to the illusion. 

At his words, Ryou gave him a half-hearted smile that was more painful than amused, clearly on edge. Sighing, Malik looked back down at the body on the floor. “Ok, don’t worry. Tell me what happened.” 

“We were walking through the aisle, looking at the shelves, and I was explaining something I think - when he collapsed.” 

“Was he acting weird before that?” Malik asked, crouching down beside the body. The young man’s skin was beaded with sweat - ashen hair sticking to his forehead, the jagged scar down his face seemed more prominent than it had before. 

After a long pause, Ryou finally replied. “I didn’t notice anything, really… Only that he seemed like he wasn’t… completely here.” Malik glanced back up at him, finding that Ryou’s gaze was trained on the opposite wall.

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” He sighed, recognising the guilty look on his face. “It does look like he might be in withdrawal - It’s nearly the exam period, right? He probably just… took something.” He paused, looking back down at the body with a frown. “Are you sure you don’t want to call security or som-” 

“No.” Ryou’s voice raised urgently, the same insistence as when Malik had suggested it earlier. “...no. I’d feel terrible if he got in trouble for, um - taking something.” He fidgeted a bit, and Malik shook his head. 

“Alright, alright. I get it. Don’t worry.” He knew Ryou well enough by now. His empathy for others was so staggering that he often wondered why he hadn’t gone into psychology - given how often he played the part for him. “You’re always attracting the bad boys.” 

The comment seemed to shake Ryou out of his stupor, because he spluttered as Malik grinned. “I - I do not.” 

“I’m just saying, trouble seems to love you.” 

There was a pause, and then Ryou replied softly, his lips twitching, “Is that a confession?” 

_ Finally.  _ Malik grinned widely. “Come on, let's start by getting him out of here. You’ll be in trouble if Kaiba finds out someone collapsed in here, right?” 

There was another pause, Ryou frowning, obviously not having considered that. “...Probably, now that you mention it.”  

“ _ How dare you losers let some junkie into the archive room _ !” Malik said, his voice taking on the same graveled tone as the billionaire’s. Ryou snorted, crouching down opposite him. 

“Be careful, he might have microphones in here.”  

“Gods forbid that Seto Kaiba knows how I really feel.” Malik chuckled, and ran his arm underneath the unconscious student’s chest. “Alright, we’ll both support him from either side. Make sure you hold him more against the rib cage, rather than under the arm, it’d be bad if he ends up with a dislocated shoulder.”

If Ryou wondered how Malik knew so much about picking up unconscious bodies, he didn’t show it, instead nodding in understanding and following his lead as they heaved the limp student upwards. 

Heavier than he’d expected, he could tell Ryou was struggling from the frown of concentration on his face. “Damn kid must be made of muscle,” he remarked with a huff, and they began to walk forward, Ryou already too out of breath to reply. 

They managed to maneuver him to one of the desks in the next room, Malik standing back with his hands on his hips as he considered the body now sitting askew in a chair. “Hmm…” he glanced at Ryou, who looked about ready to collapse. “We should decide what to do.”

Ryou just nodded, not quite meeting his eye. Growing more concerned by the minute, Malik frowned, walking over to him and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Ry, are you sure you don’t want to just hand the kid over to the faculty or something? This shouldn’t be your problem.” 

“I know that - but -”

“Why are you so worried about this guy?” 

“It’s just -”

Before he could finish, a new voice sounded, and both Malik and Ryou turned to the body in the chair beside them. His lips had parted, and jumbled words tumbled out, his head sinking back against his shoulder. 

“Is - is he awake?” Ryou asked, leaning against the desk, his eyes on the body. 

“I don’t think so,” Malik replied, still frowning.  _ What language had that been?  _ “But, at least we know he’s able to speak. He might just be having a bad fever dream.”  -  _ Something odd is going on. -  _ He glanced at Ryou again, who returned his look with a worried gaze of his own. 

\-  _ Is he telling you everything?  _

He didn’t notice he’d be staring until Ryou spoke, voice soft. “Malik?” 

He could slap himself. 

“It’s ok. Sorry, it’s nothing - It’s just strange…” He was aware that he was rambling. “I-”

Ryou searched his face. He looked anxious. “Tell me.” 

“I just. Earlier, It felt as though I’ve met this guy before, but I can’t remember where.” He shook his head. “And just now…”  _ Had that been Coptic?   _ “Ryou. I’m not trying to say I don’t believe you -”

Before he could finish, Ryou made a frustrated sound, looking away. His fringe hid his expression as he looked down. Malik could feel his heart pounding.    
  
“Ryo-”  

“You’re right.” He looked up, his blue eyes meeting his, a pained look on his face, Malik only just noticing now how deep the dark bags under his eyes were. “I just - I didn’t want to get you involved in  _ this. _ ” 

“In what, Ryou? Who is this guy?” 

“It’s-” He looked away again, this time to the body in the chair beside them. Ryou sudden let out a disbelieving laugh. It was so uncharacteristic of him, that for a brief moment it reminded Malik of -

Of  _ him _ .

Realisation began to creep up Malik's spine. The sharp gaze, the very way he had spoken, stood,  _ walked.  _ He turned to the body then - eyes widened and muscles rigid with shock. His voice shook as he spoke, finishing Ryou’s sentence for him. “It's him, isn't it?”

He could feel his heart clenching in his chest. Flashes of memory threatened to replay in his head - of cocky laughter, of shared hatred, of curse words gasped desperately out of a mouth that wasn't meant to shape them. 

He could barely bring his eyes back to Ryou as he replied. 

“It's him.” His voice was soft, but surprisingly firm and when Malik finally looked up at him, his gaze was entirely focused on the other. “It's a very long story.”

“I can imagine.” Malik replied, dizzy with just how unfathomable it was.

Now that his lie had been caught, the anxiety that had been gripping at Ryou’s shoulders slipped away, and he stepped up to Malik with a resigned look. “Do you still want to help me?”

“Will you tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Of course.”

“Then… I.” He looked back over at Bakura, taking in his features, the shape of his nose, his square jaw, the scar that marked half his face. He thought of how he’d looked, standing by his side as they face down his other, darker half. “I'll help.”

He owed him.

 

* * *

  
  


Ryou had decided that It made no difference if Malik did or didn’t have the Millennium Rod - his ability to bullshit his way through any situation with a flash of his charismatic grin was magic enough. 

He'd watched from behind the shelves as he unashamedly marched up to the security guard, a convincingly distressed expression plastered on his face. After a back and forth of hurried Arabic, which Ryou only half understood, Malik had successfully persuaded the confused looking guard that they desperately needed to take one of the wheeled office chairs. 

Which was now why the two of them were wheeling Bakura down the hallway, Ryou certain that they would be stopped at any moment. 

“I can't believe this is working.” He muttered, straightening Bakura again so that he wouldn't fall off. 

Beside him, Malik gave an amused chuckle, one hand on the chair backing and the other on an armrest. “I doubt a university security guy is paid enough to be bothered chasing after us for a chair, anyway.”

Ryou gave a forlorn sigh, not feeling much better with Malik's attempted reassurance. When they made it to the elevator, Ryou swallowed. He didn't think even Malik could explain their situation to an elevator full of people. 

Thankfully, by some miracle, it was empty when it reached their floor, and Malik tapped the basement button liberally. 

“Lucky I parked my car close.”

“Yea, lucky,” Ryou sighed, the mirror image of them in the reflective wall opposite making the reality of his situation even more apparent. Malik had a small grin, one of enjoyment, likely appreciating the freedom from his day job at the museum. Bakura was slouched forward, still looking like a coma patient. But of all of them, Ryou looked the worse, like all the worry of the past two days had crashed down on him. He rubbed his forehead with a groan. “I really thought I could get through this day without anything going wrong.”

“Well, that was your first mistake. Thinking having this guy around would bring you good luck.” Malik said as he leant against the wall, booted foot poking at the chair.

Ryou snorted, sure he was joking, but not failing to notice that there was something personal in his voice, behind his words. Similar to the one of disdain Bakura had used for the tomb keeper earlier. 

Again, Ryou thought back to the day he'd met Malik at the museum - over six years ago. 

_ “I don't understand. Don't you hear what I'm saying?!” He cried in frustration. Ryou frowned.  _

_ “You helped the spirit-” _

_ “It's not just that! I used you as much as he did. Why do you think I couldn't even look you in the eye last year before the ceremonial duel.” _

The ding of the elevator bled through Ryou’s memories, and he looked up to find Malik already pulling the chair around to exit. 

“Don't worry, we're nearly there,” Malik said suddenly.

Ryou gave a nod, and followed his lead, wheeling the chair forward and into the dim light of the underground carpark. He was silent as they went, Malik as well, the both of them focusing on the concrete path in front. 

“Alright.” Malik announced when they made it to his car, a black sports model of some type. Ryou wasn't particularly knowledgeable in such things, though he liked to listen to Malik talk about how fast it could go. 

“Let's just… dump him in the back seat.”

They heaved Bakura out of the chair and into the back, Malik doing most of the work as the laid him on his back, knees up so that he would fit across the seats. Ryou winced a bit at the odd angle his arm was on. 

Ryou swallowed. “Alright. Now let's just go back to my apartment and -” 

“Wait.” Malik shut the back door with a small thud, turning to him with a shake of his golden earrings. Ryou met his violet gaze. “We should talk about this. You look like you're about to cry.” 

Ryou looked away, studying the silver bevels of the zippier on Malik's jacket. “I'm fine. I'm just tired from the trip and -”

“Ryou, you are clearly not fine!” Malik interjected, his voice firm, placing his hands on his shoulders. He could feel how warm his touch was through his sweater, and breathed deeply. 

Ryou could imagine how he looked to Malik. Sleep deprived, helping Bakura of all people, on edge after what he'd seen in the memory - after what had happened. 

Malik spoke again, voice lower this time. “Ryou…” He hated hearing him say his name with such worry. 

Taking another deep breath, Ryou looked back up. Malik's lips were pulled back in a pout, his eyes shimmering with an emotion that was either worry or anger. Maybe it was both. Ryou could feel his throat clenching. 

“Thank you.” He said, placing a hand on the front of Malik's shirt. He could feel his heartbeat, and the way his shoulders moved as he relaxed against his touch. “I know why you're worried. I'd think I was crazy too-”

“I don't think you're  _ crazy,”  _ Malik interjected, and sighed, looking away for a brief moment, his eyes drifting to his car. “Just. I know you're the type to want to handle it on your own, but - just -” 

He was looking back down at him, and Ryou could feel a completely different kind of tightness in his throat. He couldn't bring himself to breathe, and his hand tightened around the fabric of Malik's tank top. 

His lips were even warmer than Ryou had expected, soft as he returned his touch. For a moment, the last two days, hell, the last month didn't exist. The dig site. The dreams. 

“Ryou,” Malik breathed his name against his lips. All at once Ryou had been pulled against him, head on Malik's shoulder, his arms around him. 

Ryou squeezed his eyes shut. He hadn't wanted to get him involved, but he didn't want to push him away, and he knew Malik would put up a fight if he tried to. 

As if reading his mind, Malik pulled back, looking uncharacteristically flustered for a moment as he considered him. And then a smile. “Not how I imagined this would be.”

“I know.” Ryou agreed, tilting his head down to rest against the other's shoulder, laughing softly despite himself. 

“Let's get going, why don't you tell me how all this started while I drive?” Malik said, taking control of the situation when he could.

Ryou welcomed it.

 

* * *

  
  


“Just another day in the life of Ryou Bakura.” Malik sat across the table from him, reclined in his chair as if he did it every day, “Why didn’t you mention the dreams?” Malik asked, curious. Ryou shrugged. 

“I want to say it was because I was distracted with work, but.” He glanced over at the couch, where Bakura was lying, still blacked out. “I think some part of me thought it was my duty to handle it alone.” He heard Malik sigh, and looked back to him. His gaze was on the table, thoughtful. 

“I can understand that.” 

Malik had been pensive throughout Ryou’s hurried retelling in the car, contemplative in the way he could be when there was a lot on his mind. 

“Any ancient tomb keeper knowledge that might explain this?” Ryou wondered, semi teasing in tone. Malik smiled wryly. 

“Well. I can’t say there are any scriptures on the resurrection of ancient spirits, unless you count those of the pharaoh, but...” He looked over at the couch. “I know I’ve asked this before, but do you remember anything from battle city?” Ryou shook his head, crossing his arms. He could only remember some things - waking up in pain, facing Yugi in a duel, weightlessness, and then finding himself back in his room on the blimp, starving. 

Malik waved his hands apologetically, “Just checking. Well.” He leaned back in his chair, letting it rest on its back legs as he spoke, eyes upwards, “As I’ve mentioned before, Bakura -” he paused, frowning, clearly still getting used to referring to the spirit that way while Ryou was present. “- he and I played in a shadow game against my… other half.” 

Ryou hummed softly, nodding. He was well aware of Malik’s other side - Even now, he knew he still struggled with his emotions - either burying them too deeply or letting them control him when he was upset or angry. There had been times where Ryou would stay up late to talk to him when he was still in Domino City, just to keep him company. 

Even now, 7 years on, he could see it was hard for Malik to talk about. 

“When we lost - and by ‘we’ I mean your body and soul as well as ours - we were taken by the shadows. Perhaps it was because of the ring’s influence that you don’t remember the darkness. But for a time, your body wasn’t  _ here.  _ It was taken to another place, where it stayed in limbo until the pharaoh won the penalty game.” 

“Huh…” Ryou wondered, realisation dawning on him. “So, In a sense, I came back from the dead.” 

“If you want to think of it that way, yes.” Malik agreed, his chair coming back down as he leaned forward on the table. “What I’m thinking is… perhaps, somehow, you won a game without realising it.” 

“Are you suggesting that my dreams where a shadow game?” 

“Well. I can’t be certain, but it’s a unique situation, and the only explanation I can think of.” He stood suddenly, stepping over to the couch and leaning against the armrest, gaze falling to Bakura. “We know hardly anything about this guy, right? Who's to say  _ his  _ situation wasn’t due to a penalty game?” 

“Being stuck in the ring…” 

“Hmhm.” Malik looked up, triumphant. 

“But - then - why wasn’t he freed when the Pharaoh won?” 

At that, Malik’s expression faltered, and his face became twisted with a sardonic smile, “do you really think the Pharaoh would want to free him, given what he’s done? Bakura lost that game, his soul would have just been trapped again - although this time, without the Ring to hold it.” 

Ryou frowned, glancing away. “That’s true.” Malik was right, though his tone spoke volumes  - the tomb keeper had his own reasons for hating the Pharaoh - and towards the legacy of the royal family in general. Knowing what Ryou did about his past, he couldn’t fault him. “While I don’t like the idea of a shadow game, I don’t blame Atem - he saved our lives. I’m just wondering why…” He paused for a moment, biting his lip. “If what you’re saying is right, doesn’t it imply that  _ he  _ was the one that I beat in order to bring Bakura back? It just… doesn’t make sense to me.” 

Malik returned his gaze, pouting a bit. “You make a good point.” 

They fell silent, and Ryou gazed down at the table, thinking. The dream of what Bakura had said was Kul Elna - burning and deserted, a fiery hell. The voice he knew he’d heard - but struggled to recall. How were they connected? 

“You said the two of you were in his memories. It’s worrying that he hasn’t woken up yet.” Malik said, leaning over the couch to look at Bakura. Ryou watched as he placed the back of his hand on his forehead. “At least he’s not burning up anymore.”

“I’ve been a bit worried. He sleeps a lot.”

“Oh?” Malik pulled back, glancing over his shoulder. 

“Well… it’s like he phases out. Like he’s not really here sometimes.” Ryou bit his lip, thinking about it. “He was in the shower for almost two hours this morning.” 

“Wow. That is weird. Bakura  _ showering?”  _

“Malik!” 

The other chuckled, waving his hand, “I kid. You’re right. I’d be worried too.”

“What should I do? I doubt he’ll talk to me about it, even if I ask.”

“Yea…” Malik trailed off, staring at Bakura again. His expression was hard to read. “Maybe I can. But not today, I should be going soon… you know, Isis worries.”

Ryou stood, stepping in front of Malik with a smile, “Wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.” 

“Oh no, you know it’s the opposite she’s worried about. I’m a bad influence,” he grinned. 

They stared at each other for a long moment, Malik’s grin wavering to a softer expression, and he pushed some hair behind his ear, Ryou catching how the light danced off his earrings. He always looked so regal in his gold and eyeliner. “Earlier, you didn’t just kiss me to shut me up, did you?” 

A pause, as Ryou gazed at him seriously, running his arms around his gold adorned neck, “Absolutely.” 

The kiss was everything the last wasn’t - Malik’s tongue in his mouth, leading his own forward, their movements more confident, the both of them exhaling as a shared tremor passed through them, Ryou breathing deeply against his lips. Malik smelt of the musky deodorant he liked to use, the type that was meant to drive the girls crazy. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

Perhaps it was because Ryou wasn’t a romantic - pragmatic, more like. He had always known his feelings for Malik had grown, but like most things he knew he should act on, he’d procrastinated on them. After years of keeping touch via messaging, and of course the brief meetings when Ryou visited his father, It had been easier to fall into the tingling uncertainty of  _ what if _ once he’d moved to egypt. 

And, he knew, Malik still hesitated in a way that was so uncharacteristic of him because of the guilt he held onto. 

He pulled back, beaming happily. “Thank you, again. I would’ve locked myself in that room until Bakura woke up, otherwise.” 

“Well, it was worth it,” Malik grinned mischievously in return, his heavily mascaraed eyelashes fluttering with implications. 

Ryou gave a teasing smile. “Even worth getting dragged into all this?”

“Well, I need more excitement in my life.” He grinned, glancing back at the thief. For a moment, he paused, as if in thought, and then turned back to Ryou, lifting a hand to touch to lightly touch his cheek. “If he does anything to you -” 

“He won’t,” Ryou assured him, taking his hand and squeezing it in his own. He wondered if Malik was thinking of the scar on his arm. “Anyway, I hid all the knives.” 

“That’s-” Malik paused, shaking his head at the confident smile on Ryou’s face. “Just be careful, ok?”

“Trust me, Malik, I know better than anyone what he’s capable of.” 

“That’s true.” Malik sighed. He knew he couldn’t win.

Before either of them could speak again, the loud, jarring vibrations of a guitar riff filled the room. Malik swore. “Shit. That'll be Isis.” He hurried to the table where his jacket was, sorting through the pockets for his phone. It stopped ringing before he found it. He let out some frustrated words of Arabic. “Well, a fate  worse than death waits for me if I don't leave now.” He pulled on his jacket, and Ryou followed him to the door. “Sorry Ry.”

Ryou frowned sadly. “Sorry. Tell her you were helping me, I'll call her if you need.”

Malik just nodded, pulling on his boots. “It's all good, she knows I was at the university.” He looked up, finding Ryou’s gaze and grabbing him by the front of his sweater. Ryou had no chance to react as he kissed him liberally. “I'll see you in the weekend, alright?”

Dazed, Ryou nodded. 

“I have some ideas we can go over then. Just try and keep the idiot out of trouble until Saturday.”

Ryou smiled. “I’ll do my best.” 

Malik grinned back, and open the door, pausing for a moment as they met each other’s eye. Ryou’s chest was tight. “I’ll see you later, then.” A nod, and a small wave, and then the door was closed, and Malik was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder if Bakura was really asleep, huh? Wonder what would happen if he saw that kiss...
> 
> I didn't get to reply to every comment last time but I think only one person guessed correctly that Malik would figure things out pretty fast - it helps that Ryou's not great at lying to him. 
> 
> Tell me your guesses for things to come :3


	6. Chapter 6

Bakura lay stiff on the couch, forcing himself not to move. Forcing himself to remain still and listen, even when the warmth of Malik’s hand pressed against his forehead. Even when he could hear the sound of them pushing their tongues down each other’s throats. 

Flashes of gold. A young, scheming smirk. A mischievous voice in his head that drowned out the others. The violet of Malik's eyes in the dim light, darkened with desire.  

He breathed out silently, lungs aching. 

Why did it hurt so much? 

* * *

Malik glanced at him, his eyes flashing with entertainment, and Bakura had to fight not to smirk back. Ryou’s friends were already suspicious of his sudden entry into the tournament finals. The charming ring of the tomb keeper’s voice filtered into his mind. 

_“Good job. I can hardly believe you managed to make it here so quickly.”_

_“I told you not to doubt me, didn’t I?”_ Bakura replied internally with a sneer, barely noticing as the blimp began to shadow the stadium. 

_“Well, not many people can win that many locator cards in four hours. Not even my rare hunters.”_

Bakura met his eye, everyone else too distracted to notice. _“Maybe instead of that gang of imbeciles you’d be better off with just one very good thief, then.”_ He watched as Malik’s lips twitched, and the sound of magnetic laughter filled his head, drowning out the whirr of the blimp’s engines. 

_“Are you volunteering, Bakura?”_

* * *

He forced himself to stay quiet as Ryou came back into the living room, breath shallow. He couldn’t overthink it. Malik wasn’t important. He had always just been another step in his plan to get the items. That’s what he’d told himself. What he’d believed. What he -

He felt the couch give way near his feet as Ryou sat on the other end, apparently not concerned with waking him. “He’s gone now.” 

Bakura felt a flash of heat rise in his chest, and he briefly considered continuing his charade, even if Ryou had figured him out. But impatience gave way, and he sat up, leveling him with a glare. Ryou didn’t even look surprised. 

“I can see you're great _friends_.” Bakura growled. Ryou glanced away, cheeks pink. “Why did you have to get him involved?” He struggled to mask his annoyance. 

There was a long pause, and Bakura half expected Ryou to reprimand him, his lips pulling into a thin line as he watched. He wouldn’t have blamed him. He wanted him too. But, instead Ryou sighed and turned back to him. 

“I didn’t plan on it, but I can’t get him to back off now.” Bakura watched as he ran his fingers through the ends of his hair. 

“I don’t understand you.” He muttered, growing frustrated with how nonchalant the other seemed. In the back of his mind, a voice echoed back at him, his hands were gripping the front of Ryou’s sweater.  

_“Maybe, if I help you, I can finally move on from it, too!”_

He winced, a flash of pain starting in the front of his skull. 

“Are you alright?” 

“It’s nothing.” He said, turning away from him and laying back down on the couch, head against the armrest. His heart was beating rapidly. “Just - a side effect of earlier, probably.” Ryou was frowning.

“It doesn’t look like nothing.” 

“I’m fine,” he muttered. He could remember now, their conversation. Though it hurt when he tried to focus on it, forcing the memory aside in favour of the vision. The past overlapping with the present. 

Ryou getting past the trapped room, Ryou smiling at him, Ryou near tears of frustration as he looked up at him, hands clasping at his arm. Bakura’s chest tightened painfully. It was a different sort of pain to what Malik made him feel. 

“Here,” There was a soft metallic thud as a can was placed on the coffee table beside him, and Ryou shook a packet of painkillers in his face. “At least humor me.” He said, looking exhausted. Bakura’s frown deepened. He didn’t argue, and took the medicine, eyeing the can of soda as he popped two pills out of the foil protection. “I hope you don’t mind grapefruit,” Ryou said, apologetic. 

“It’s fine.” Bakura said, opening the can and pushing the pills past his teeth. They were sweet, coated with something, and the drink was sweet too. He drained the whole can as Ryou watched, biting his lip. “Thanks,” he said, still not meeting his eye. He could feel Ryou watching him, and the quiet stretched on, threatening to become awkward as neither of them spoke. Bakura knew he had caused trouble for him. 

The can began to collapse under his grip. 

“Are you sure you’re ok?” 

“I said I'm fine.” Bakura snapped, frustrated, finally looking up at him. The bags under Ryou’s eyes were worse than they’d been that morning, and Bakura could feel himself frowning, heart sinking. He looked back down at the crushed can. “I just…” his mouth twisted as he forced himself to speak, “Hoped I'd remember more, after going to so much fucking trouble.” 

Beside him, Ryou shifted, bringing his legs up onto the couch. “Well… I thought it was interesting,” he could hear the hesitation in his voice, and put the can down, glancing sideways to find him gazing back. 

“It didn’t really tell me anything I didn’t already know.” 

“Really?” Ryou asked, tilting his head, inquisitive. Why was he so _insistent_? 

“Really.” Bakura replied plainly, frowning, “I robbed hundreds of tombs. It’s not like i’ve been enlightened by the memory of one”

Ryou held his gaze for a moment, considering, and then, “But it _wasn’t_ just any tomb. That was _Aknamkanon’s_ tomb.” 

“...What?” Bakura asked, brain scrambling to figure out how Ryou knew something he didn’t while fighting the anger the name stirred in his chest. “How could you -” 

“I read the hieroglyphs.” Ryou said, cutting in, “On the door, before the entrance to the ampitheatre.”  He stared at him, and Bakura could practically see the excitement switch on in Ryou’s bright, nerdy gaze. It was almost maddening to watch, because he knew he wasn’t going to be able to stop him. “You didn’t know?” 

“No.” Bakura groaned, “I didn’t” 

“Can you read-” 

“Only when I need too,” he bit back, shooting him an annoyed look. Ryou’s lip twitched. 

“I see.” 

“Enough, landlord. So it was Aknamkanon’s tomb. How does that help us? I don’t even remember making it to the sarcophagus.” He remembered the fighting, and the blood, and the rage -

“Well, there’s items from his tomb in the museum.” 

Had Ryou said as such that morning, Bakura would have been thrilled. He would have insisted on leaving. But now he knew Malik worked there, with his sister no doubt, and Bakura suddenly had no urge to chase that lead.   
  
“Great, just great. Go and get the display for me then. I’ll be here.” 

“You really don’t like him, do you?” Ryou wondered, sounding amused, and Bakura went quiet. He felt far away, like he wasn’t really there, his head fuzzy with things he didn’t want to think about. 

“He’s a pain in the arse,” he muttered, and lay back again, crossing his arms over his chest. 

* * *

_“When you've finished playing pretend with those idiots, come to my room.”_

Bakura frowned, Malik's voice distracting him from the inane words coming out of Honda's mouth. It was hard enough to keep up the act as it was, having Malik sneaking into his head whenever he pleased didn't help. 

“Are you ok Bakura?” Jounouchi was gazing at him with suspicion, and Bakura gave the most unassuming smile he could. 

“I'm ok! Just a bit tired… I - I might head to bed early, actually. I don't want to be unprepared for the duel tomorrow!” 

Although clearly still concerned for their friend, they couldn't argue with Ryou looking as tired as he did - and so Bakura was free to stalk away, smirking silently to himself. 

_“You're a terrible actor and yet they still fall for it.”_

_“I know. Landlord really needs better friends, doesn't he?”_ Bakura chuckled, and leant against a nearby wall. _“Anyway. What do you want? If you're worried about tomorrow, I'm fully prepared to crush anyone I need to duel.”_

He could practically hear him scoff. _“You'll find out when you come to my room, like I told you to.”_ Before Bakura could reply, the way to where Malik was staying flashed into his mind. 

He pouted in an annoyed way, not completely sure what the other was planning, but too curious to refuse. He took the elevator to his floor, and stalked down the hallway. The door opened before he reached it. 

The room inside was dimly lit, Malik having turned all the lights down to their lowest setting. Bakura raised an eyebrow. “How romantic.” 

“I'm not a fan of the artificial lighting.” Malik drawled out, and Bakura turned to find him sitting at the table, the Millenium rod, a duel disk, and a deck of cards placed in front of him. “Come here.” He was reclined back, arms over his head in a bored manner. Bakura eyed the stretch of muscle below his crop top. 

“Well, I can't say I'm not curious,” Bakura grinned, sitting opposite him and putting his legs up on the table. “What's this all about, Malik?”

* * *

  


Bakura woke with a start. He hadn't meant to drift off, but after the strain of the vision and the subsequent headache of events that followed, his body had let him down. 

The lights had been turned on, and the clock by the TV told him he'd slept through lunch. Sitting up with a groan, his body aching, he was surprised to find Ryou still sitting on the other end of the couch, laptop propped up on his knees. He glanced at him. 

“Feeling better?”

Bakura just grunted. He needed to go to the bathroom.

“I put your lunch in the fridge for you.” Ryou called after him as he wandered down the hallway. 

He hated being alone with the mirror, and finished as quickly as he could - washing his hands and heading back to the living area. Ryou had made him a sandwich. He tore the plastic wrap off and bit into it hungrily, striding back over to the couch and sitting down again. He tried not to think of the dream he'd been having. 

Ryou was typing something. Bakura stuffed the rest of the sandwich in his mouth. It was good. Ryou had always been a good cook, though he’d never been able to appreciate that, not when he’d been attached to the ring.

“Hey,” Ryou had stopped typing, and was watching him as he chewed his mouthful of food. “I was thinking, while you slept…” a pause. Bakura could see that Ryou had a webpage up, with photos of a museum exhibit. He forced himself to swallow. 

“What is it?” 

“Maybe it would be easier for me to help you if you told me more. More about what you _do_ remember.” 

“I’ve already told you.” _Of the ring and the past and -_

“No.” Ryou shook his head. “There’s still things - obvious things, to me.” 

“Like?” 

Ryou moved his laptop to the coffee table, and shifted so that he was facing him on the couch, legs crossed. “Like - why do you hate the Pharaoh?”

Bakura didn't know what he had expected. He frowned. Ryou stared back, tilting his head, his expression soft with curiosity. 

“You don't remember why, do you?” 

Bakura glowered, flopping back down against the couch. “I don't need to remember why.”   
  
_Hate and rage and darkness that permeated through his soul like a fire._

“Does it have something to do with Kul Elna?” Ryou wasn't backing down. 

“I-” _A memory out of his reach, a name of a town that made his heart ache. Fire. Screaming._ Bakura grit his teeth. “Maybe.”

Ryou just nodded, and looked away, thinking for a moment. “I'm guessing you don't remember how you came to be trapped in the ring, either.”

Bakura just stared. He was beginning to realise that Ryou had already anticipated his answers, and crossed his arms, gazing at him sharply. “Get to your point.”

Ryou sighed, shaking his head. “The things you can’t remember are the things I'd like to know the answers too as well.” He brushed a lock of his light hair back, Bakura trying hard not to get distracted, “it seems we'll have to figure them out together.”

He was being offered an olive branch, he knew. Ryou had been thrust into this, blindsided. He had tiptoed around him, bought him clothes, done what he could to keep control of the situation. But it wouldn’t last - their conflict earlier making that clear. They needed to accept the other’s help, or else neither of them would get what they wanted. 

For the first time, they needed to work together. 

Bakura ran a hand back through his hair, “I agree.”  Ryou visibly relaxed, his straightened shoulders dropping back into a more natural posture. 

“I’m glad,” He was smiling, Bakura unsure of how to react until Ryou spoke again, “I hope that means you also agree that Malik will be able to help.”

Snarling, Bakura stood, unhappy that Ryou had tricked him so easily. “And how do you figure that?” 

A sigh, blue eyes following him as he paced in front of the television. “Malik can access his family’s relics. They didn’t just protect the Millenium Rod. It’s very possible that there’s something among the collection that could help you remember more.” 

Bakura wasn’t having it. “What about the rest of the items in the archives of the university?” He’d rather exhaust all other options before going crawling to Malik for help. 

“I didn’t sense anything else among them. Most of the other’s I’ve seen before. And of those, only your knife ever resonated with me.” Bakura just glowered. Ryou raised his eyebrows. “Tell me why you’re so vehemently against working with Malik.”

Bakura made a noise of contempt, and turned away from Ryou’s piercing stare. 

* * *

He was listening to Malik tell him what he already knew - waiting for him to get to the point. The tomb keeper could sense his impatience. “I told you I’d have no need for the Rod once the vessel and the pharaoh are dead.” He reiterated, eyes flashing with a fiery anger at the mention of Yugi. “And I still intend to deliver it to you - your cooperation has been… very helpful.” He paused, and Bakura folded his arms, sensing that there was more to come. 

Suddenly, Malik stood, turning from the table. The rod still lay there, out of his reach, and well within Bakura’s. It would be so easy for him to take it now - to use a tenth of the ring’s power to subdue him there. But he hesitated. 

Malik. The tomb keeper made him feel odd - excited by the potential of their partnership. He commanded the power of his item as if it were a toy, and cared not who he hurt to get what he wanted. It was exhilarating. It was alluring. 

Familiar. 

Malik spoke again. “I’ve been thinking on what you said before.” His tone had shifted in a way that Bakura couldn’t read. Softer. He sat up in his chair, leaning forward on the table so he could hear him. “About I needing a thief.” 

Bakura’s eyebrows rose. Malik turned back to him, his violet eyes finding his own. “I know what you intend. The powers you want to unlock. I know the key to retrieving it.” His stepped closer, and Bakura half thought he would reach for his item. Instead, he walked to his side, sitting on the table and leaning in close. His ash blonde hair fell over his shoulders. “But once Yugi and his friends are out of the way, you’ll be free to do what you please, won’t you?” 

Bakura looked up at him, his gold adorned neck and ears, the regal way he held himself - so at odds with his true identity. A criminal, someone that wanted nothing more than to kill a thousand year old ruler. Bakura sneered, and a spark glited in the darkness of his soul. “Are you offering me a job? I prefer to work alone.” 

“Not a job.” Malik corrected, studying him, looking for a reaction. “A… partnership.” 

He didn’t need him, though. He would hold him back from his goals. He would -

“I’m listening,” Bakura was grinning. This was… what he wanted. Malik’s eyes wouldn’t leave his. 

“Wouldn’t it help to have someone with my resources? Right now, you’re relying on this… host.” Bakura narrowed his eyes. 

‘What of him?” 

Malik chuckled. “Defensive. But let me say this - Isn’t his soul just a burden for you? Wouldn’t it be easier if he were gone?” He leaned back as he spoke, and picked up the Millenium Rod, the gold flashing as he twirled it between his fingers. “Right now, he’s a useful asset, but -” He tilted his head. “Wouldn’t it be nice if you were the landlord?” 

It was more of an offer than Bakura had been anticipating, and he caught his own breath, surprised by Malik’s gall. “I’m bound to the Millenium Ring.”

“You don’t have to agree now. It’s simply a suggestion.” 

Bakura shifted in his seat, turning his gaze away from Malik with a dismissive snort. And he had no need for such an offer, because while his landlord was, as Malik said, pathetic, Bakura did receive some benefit from their coexistence. His was an easy fallback when he grew tired of playing pretend - and Bakura had become accustomed to 10 years of that arrangement. 

And yet… a body of his own. 

“You don’t need to concern yourself with him.” Bakura said finally, and looked back up at Malik. If he was disappointed in his reply, he didn’t show it, his face a mask of silent interest. “Your ‘resources,’ now, that’s something I’d be interested in,” His voice dropped to an illicit tone, lips twitching, “It would be… beneficial to join you, i’ll admit. For a time. That's assuming you succeed.”

“I will.” Malik replied without pause, the confidence in his assertion surprising, given how he’d been defeated by Yugi twice now. He straightened up, his gaze suddenly darkened as he looked down on him. “Now… with that being said,” Bakura didn’t attempt to move as he suddenly took his chin in his hand, thumb pressing into his skin. The spark began to burn. “There is one more thing I had in mind.” 

* * *

“Bakura?” Ryou spoke up behind him, and he struggled to turn back. When he did, he felt a cold flush run through him. Ryou blinked up at him, that honest expression, so prepared to hear him out. 

He couldn’t tell him. 

It would only complicate things if Ryou were angry. And as he’d said, perhaps the tomb keeper could help them. 

That was all. 

“He gave the ring back to the Pharaoh without a second thought,” he said finally, voice even, “And after we’d made a deal. I don’t appreciate liars.” 

“But -” Ryou frowned, defensive, “Malik… really had no choice.” 

 _I know that._ Bakura thought, clenching his teeth. “I don’t care.” He stepped back over to the couch, sitting back down and crossing his arms. “Enough about the tomb keeper, ask me something else.” 

Ryou followed his movement, and looked at him for a long moment, eyes dropping when he met his gaze. The seconds ticked by. “You know… none of them could ever tell me why you did the things you did.”

Bakura tilted his head, confused. “Who?”

“My friends. They were in the memory world, but they couldn't even answer that. And the Pharaoh was gone before I had a chance to ask.”

“Why does it matter?” Bakura asked, voice low. Ryou blinked, and slowly glanced away, eyes back on his laptop and the photos of the tomb. 

“I just… can't believe you could hate so much without a reason.” He paused, bakura watching as his hand clasped at the front of his shirt. He didn’t think even Ryou was aware he was doing it. His stomach turned. “And you could still hate them, even without your memories.” Ryou looked back up at him. “I want to know why.”

He wanted to understand him.

Bakura looked away, sneering, “And what? If you find i’m somehow justified, you’re going to forgive me like you did Malik?” 

“Maybe.” 

His heart thumped, and he looked back up. Ryou was gazing down at his laptop, his flowing white hair framing his pale skin. Bakura could feel something painful stir inside him, a dark wave threatening to rise up and engulf him - 

what if he didn’t have a reason? 


End file.
